


When Blood Runs Cold

by LucaTheBazooka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Death, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Deals With Human Emotions, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, How Do I Tag, I Tried, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, North's past, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucaTheBazooka/pseuds/LucaTheBazooka
Summary: Connor is a tool. That's what he's always been, a tool ever ready for Amanda's use. He's a killer, and willing to die for his court and Queen, ever the loyal servant. He doesn't understand why vampires have been rebelling against her rule- she's a fine queen, a mother figure to him even. Connor can't understand why vampires would want to defect and feel.Is emotion not a weakness? What's the allure to freedom?Connor doesn't know, and Amanda hasn't told him to find out, so he supposes he'll never understand freedom.(Vampire AU) (ON HOLD)





	1. Mission Accomplished

Blood drenches his hands, thick and dark blue and disgusting. He hates the feel of it on him, sticking between his fingers and staining his fine suit- it's completely ruined, now. Connor hates everything about blood except how it tastes. He sees so much of it in his missions, and occasionally in his dreams. The vampire spread onto the floor wheezes out a breath, terrified eyes darting around the wrecked room in search of an escape, but he doesn't even attempt to move from his spot on the floor. Another reason why he finds Deviants so interesting- emotions influence their decisions so heavily Connor could not ever hope to know what to expect from them. He'd put up so much of a struggle against Connor, throwing punches and at one point even flinging him over the couch. Now though, the man simply lays on the floor, clutching the gash in his abdomen leaking dark blue blood. Connor doesn't understand where all that fight has gone- all deviants want to live, even if the life they live is an undead one.

The apartment was a dump when Connor had arrived, but during their struggle they'd really destroyed the place. The couch has been thrown over on it's side, a long rip in the carpet from where Connor had landed and dug his dagger down to stop himself from rolling. A bookcase as collapsed in on itself, human classics in literature splayed across the dirt covered floor. Broken plates splatter the floor with glass from when the deviant had attempted to use them as a weapon against him. Connor steps closer, into the growing puddle of blood, reminding his victim its time for last words and goodbyes.

"My name is Connor," He introduces himself, even though he's sure the injured vampire knows exactly who he is. Connor has quite the reputation, and vampires do anything to stay away from him, deviant or not. "I am the executioner to Our Queen Amanda. You are a deviant, and have been deemed a threat to the throne. I have explicit orders for your death." Connor knows this speech to well, and delivers it too often. He recites it by heart easily. The vampire on the floor laughs, low and empty. Connor's eyes widen without his consent- he's never heard a vampire laugh. He's seen them sob, beg, scream and curse at him, but he's never had a deviant laugh at him. This vampire is dark skinned, with brown eyes and arms scarred by burns. Connor doesn't know him, but he's definitely a recognizable person. Connor will remember this one.  Those brown eyes pool with unspilled tears as the laughter continues, soft and hopeless as he sits up slowly. He slouches, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

"I know who you are. Everyone knows you. I thought-" The deviant chokes on his tears for a moment but Connor keeps his mouth shut in favor of waiting for his target to continue. "I thought surely no one would ever find me.  _I'm safe,_ I thought. I told myself if someone like you found me I'd... I'd convince them to let me go..." Another wet laugh slips past quivering lips. "But I realize now why that was never going to work. I can't play on sympathy when you don't feel it. When you don't  _feel_ anything." There's a bite to those words, like they're meant to be an insult. Connor is not insulted though, not when it's a simple fact. It's how all vampires should be. 

"You're right," Connor agrees. "I don't." And before the deviant can reply he's stepped forward and in a fell swoop sliced clean through the front of his fellow vampire's throat.  He doesn't feel anything at all as a gargled gasp springs into the air and the man's hands shoot to his neck, clasping desperately and trying to to fix something irreparable. Blood spits out of the cut, lunging out and Connor quickly takes a step back before the spray can reach him. Tortured eyes full of betrayal meet Connor's. Connor doesn't understand why the deviant feels betrayed- this was the only possible outcome. Did he think Connor would let him go? Betray their Queen? Connor feels nothing- this was necessary, he tells himself, as the man choking on his own blood crumples back to the floor face first into his own blood. This vampire was a threat to their very government, their way of living. Maybe he wasn't hurting anyone now, but he would have. Wouldn't he?

He steps over the corpse, emotionless.  ~~almost emotionless.~~

It's not his place to question his orders, his missions. his only concern is fulfilling those missions to the best of his ability and nothing more. 

~~What was his name?~~

Another success, Amanda will be pleased.

As Connor leaves the apartment, he feels nothing at all.

 


	2. Like A Mother... Figure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor reports to Amanda, he's given his next mission. Life goes on the same as it always has, for now.

His shoes click gently against the marble path of the walkway leading into Amanda's garden. It's a beautiful place, with tall trees and a lake and full of vibrant life. He can't help but think how ironic it is that this is where he's given all his missions. Ever since it's conception, the garden has been a place of political power. Maybe a testament from Amanda to those who doubt her that she's fully capable of protecting life. _Ironic_. Few have been granted the privilege of being allowed into the garden. Her advisors, counsel, and Connor himself.  He's seen the garden many times, but the beauty of it never fails to take his breath away. It's truly serene. He makes his way through the garden, across the long, winding arched pathways. 

Connor finds Amanda exactly where he expected her to be, in the heart of the garden. She’s an image of grace and strength, a perfect balance of power and knowledge, all the aspects of a great ruler. A fade of turquoise and white robes cross her body in a dress, adding to her elegant image. Atop her braided head, there's a thin silver crown adorned with diamonds. He's never seen her without it, a constant reminder to those around her of her status and power over them. She gives him a thin smile as she turns her head at the sound of his clicking shoes. 

"Connor," She greets, as warm as she's ever been. Connor feels the faintest twitch in his lips and gives a small smile back. "Everything went well in your latest mission I'm guessing. I've already sent a team to clean the apartment... They said it was quite the mess, did you have some difficulty, Connor?" She asks, mildly curious. It's no concern, however- Connor has completed his mission. The deviant is dead, that's all that matters. She looks over her roses once more, brushing her fingers gently against their deep red petals. 

"No more than usual. Deviants are always insistent on living. This one did fight, but..." Connor trails off, his mind thinking of betrayed brown eyes and teary laughter. Something was different about that one, but what? What made him different? Nothing, all deviants are the same. He has no reason to believe anything has suddenly changed. Logically, nothing has. Why is he pausing? Amanda turns her head just in the slightest and raises a brow, interest sparking in her eyes, but behind that, suspicion. Connor can't have her suspecting him, doubting him. She has nothing to fear, and he'll tell her just how insignificant they both know this deviant was.  ~~Do they?~~

"But?" Amanda presses and Connor widens his smile, trying to look at ease. Even though he feels- nothing, he feels nothing. 

"He was injured. The deviant, I mean. Not by me, there were burn marks. Probably from a cigarette, something like that." Amanda's eyes snap to him, her shoulders relaxing slightly once he delivers his reply. Professional, not emotional. No need for suspicion or doubt. Amanda sighs, turning from her wall of impressive roses, and fully facing Connor. She lets her eyes sweep over her garden. Connor thinks it serves as a reminder for her of what is at stake. 

"A human?" She asks, and Connor knows she's searching for his opinion, not fact. Connor tilts his head slightly, weighing the options in his head.

"It's the most likely option." He admits, and Amanda huffs out an angry sigh, her features twisting downwards into a scowl. "And also the most likely cause of his deviation." Amanda simmers as she digests the new information. 

"Humans have always hated vampires, I've tried my best to form a lasting peace between us. A human killing or abducting a vampire isn't rare, it's why I've separated our races. And still, they're able to get to us and... cause  _deviation!_ This is a whole new concern... Humans being able to inflict emotion... able to introduce imperfections on our race. Vampires who were turned are bad enough, retaining their human emotions, and now born vampires. This concern grows every day." Amanda looks to her roses, maybe hoping the flowers will calm her thoughts. 

"We don't know what causes deviancy." Connor reminds her against his better judgment as he tilts his head in the slightest to get a better look at her face. Amanda smiles just slightly, nodding her head in agreement.

"Yes, that is correct. However, this is as good a theory as any. A promising theory. In the meantime, I have another mission for you." Amanda's face smooths over in apathy as she prepares herself to relay the information. Connor straightens his shoulder, nodding as proof he's listening. "Normally this would be of no concern to you- a human family reporting that their daughter has gone missing. Too small a child to have any need or want to run away from home. Your involvement is that it's a deviant that's suspected of taking her. you understand the impact this could have on our relations with humans- the delicacy of this situation doesn't need to be stressed to you, I'm sure you already know. We only lay claim to the vampire, return the human. That is your mission." 

Connor nods, accepting his task. He would never reject one. 

"I won't fail you, Amanda." He promises, voice full of conviction. Amanda nods and clips at the bloomed roses on her wall methodically. 

"I know. Failure isn't an option." She reminds him calmly as she often does. There's a cost to being the deviant hunter, the price of having a sword loom over his neck on a thread, ready to come crashing down if he fails. Luckily, Connor isn't a deviant. He won't fail. He nods, bowing his head to his Queen's back.

"Thank you, Amanda." He says, turning and retracing his steps towards the entrance to the garden.

Connor is incapable of failure.

He's as loyal as he's ever been. No deviant big or small will ever change that.

He's meant to serve her- born for it, literally. 

He won't fail, and Amanda will be pleased.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated sooner than I thought I would but I enjoy writing this so here we are :) I was going to include the mission, but I felt that might be just a bit too long, so I broke it into two parts and I've already begun on the second. I've got some plans for this work, but anything could happen! Thank you for reading!
> 
> (Lowkey unedited)


	3. Deepest Regrets, Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor meets an intriguing woman, and Daniel isn't going to make anything about this mission easy. Connor thought he could handle that- turns out he can't.

It's raining by the time Connor leaves Amanda's palace. He's just replaced his suit too. Regardless, he steps past the guards that stand on either side of the entrance. The rain drenches him in one fell swoop as he makes his way away from court luxuries and further towards his mission. Vampires rarely enter the human world, drinking from donated blood given from the human governmental system so that their population isn't murdered. Connor thinks the key factor in the cause of humans hate towards them is that they happen to be their only food source. 

Though vampires could, hypothetically, eat human food, they would quickly wither away without blood. Some vampires enjoy human food and it's taste anyway, despite it doing nothing in sustenance for them. Connor makes his way in quick strides towards the black car waiting patiently on the curb. He opens the back door, sliding inside fluidly. He's familiar with this car, it's taken him to every mission he's ever received. the driver has never once been the same though. 

The driver this time is a woman, with blonde hair draped over her shoulder and a kind, gentle looking face. This is a surprise to him- almost always his driver is a man, usually one intimidating and unapproachable and silent in nature. This woman is the exact opposite, and Connor can practically feel the kindness radiating off her in waves. He relishes in it for a long moment, it's like a rush of warmth pouring over him. It feels like emotion almost- but he doesn't linger on it long. Amanda would never allow a deviant to be his driver, she has an eye for them and could spot a deviant from ten miles away. Blue eyes meet him in the rearview mirror, and his driver smiles, revealing her fangs. Usually, he would take a flash of fangs as a threat, but oddly his driver seems genuine in her smile. 

Odd, another deviant trait. Connor wonders if maybe she knows one and learned it's mannerisms. Deviancy spreads like a plague, it wouldn't surprise him.

"Hello Connor," She greets gently, flicking her eyes back onto the road as she pulls out from the curb and away from the eyes of the guards who'd slowly been growing suspicious at the unmoving car. "My name is Chloe." Connor narrows his eyes. There are so many things- not necessarily  _wrong,_ but different about this driver. Definitely different. None of his drivers ever speak with him, and does this woman not have a last name? Why would she leave it out of her introduction? She's not wearing a uniform either. 

Connor forces himself to relax back into the slick leather of the seat. He's been told more than once he has a terrible habit of overanalyzing the simplest of things. There's nothing wrong here, he's simply being paranoid. Amanda hand picks all of the drivers she assigns to Connor, and he would never doubt her- it's not his place. Reluctantly, he indulges this woman's attempt at conversation as she guides the car fluidly through traffic. 

"Hello, Chloe." He greets, not gifting her with a smile but not unkind in nature. She doesn't seem to mind, and if possible perks up at the sound of his voice by straightening her back happily.

"I've heard a lot about you." She continues, and this topic doesn't surprise him. Everyone has, Connor supposes it must have something to do with his close contact with the Queen. "You're the deviant hunter. Quite the occupation, huh?" Connor shrugs as they begin their way out of Vampire Territory and into the human side. He'll have to talk to the parents of the stolen child before he pursues the deviant. Connor still doesn't understand why the vampire was on the human side, and why they would steal  _this_ human child knowing it would raise red flags and alert Connor. Further, the parents must have known who took their child- they clearly knew it was a vampire. One oddity after the other today.

"It's an honor," Connor says, meaning the words. It's the greatest honor there is to serve Amanda directly. Chloe nods, smiling again in that way like she knows all the things Connor doesn't.

"Oh, I'm sure it is, working for such a bloodthirsty woman." She says pleasantly, not the faintest waver in her kind voice, and Connor nods for a second before he registers her words and snaps his head to her. His eyes narrow and confusion fills Connor. Did she really just say that-?

"Pardon me? What did you just say about-"

 "Do you enjoy it? Your job, that is, hunting vampires." She interrupts, not looking away from the road even as Connor stares at the back of her head with suspicious eyes. She waits patiently for his reply, unbothered in the slightest. Connor frowns, however, unsure. He can't help but notice she addressed them as vampires and not deviants.

"I don't  _enjoy_ anything." He says, a conviction in his voice. Chloe only hums, however, and Connor's self-confidence simmers. "I don't feel." He clarifies. Chloe smiles, serene and as though she's truly unbothered by their conversation.

"So you don't like it? That's good, I'm glad to hear that. There might be hope for you yet." Connor shakes his head, thoroughly confused by Chloe. What does she mean he doesn't enjoy it? He's worked his whole life proving himself to Amanda, showing her he's reliable enough to be trusted and moving his way upwards through the ranks to get where he is now. It cost him a great deal in blood and tears, why would he  _not_ enjoy it? 

He has no regrets- he does what he does for the betterment of his people, for Amanda and her approval- he doesn't have nightmares of drowning in blood and Amanda swinging down that sword with all her possible wrath because he's failed her. Except he does have nightmares. Chloe doesn't need to know that, no one does. Not even Amanda.

" _Hope_ for me?" He asks, voice thick with an unsaid accusation. "What are you  _talking_ about?" The car rolls to a stop outside a nice two-story house. It's nice, with a trimmed yard and three cars in the driveway. Whoever lives here must easily be upper-middle class. A mailbox stands loyally at the end of the walkway to their porch, and scrawled on its side in neat cursive reads " _The Phillips"._ Chloe turns around and gives Connor another smile. He's beginning to think she smiles too much to be normal. 

"We're here! I'll wait for you in the car." She says pleasantly, cutting off their conversation easily. Somehow Connor doesn't feel like its quite over yet though. Connor nods, choosing to push aside his unease to focus on the mission instead. He stands outside the car, duly noting that the drizzle is here as well. He closes the car door and turns his back on the woman inside in favor of making his way up to the house. Something about it looks sullen, maybe it's the rain but the house  _oozes_ sadness. Connor is damp by the time he ducks under the cover of the porch and raises his fist against the wooden door in a polite tap.

A woman opens the door almost as soon as Connor's knuckles touch down, practically almost ripping it off its hinges as she opens it. Her face falls when her eyes set on Connor, though. Somehow, humans can always tell vampires apart from other humans. 

"Oh," She says, with thinly veiled disgust. "I thought you were the police." Connor smiles, even though it feels strange on his face. 

"Technically, I am. I'm here to discuss with you the issue of your child's abduction." Connor corrects, and the woman snarls in his face, but he can see the panic in her eyes.

"Her name is Emma!" She bites out ferociously. Connor nods, acknowledging this. 

"I'm here to discuss Emma's abduction." He corrects himself, filing away that tidbit of information in his head. "I was sent by Queen Amanda herself. She wants the deviant who stole your daughter dead, and I'm here to make sure that mission is accomplished." The woman shifts, her grip on the door easing just slightly. She looks Connor over with wary eyes before she dares to meet his gaze. 

"You'll kill him? Daniel, I mean." She asks, sounding guilty and hopeful at the same time. 

"That depends," Connor says, moving his arms behind his back and wrapping his hands together. "Is Daniel the deviant who took your daughter?" The woman nods, looking shocked that Connor would even ask. Connor nods his head slightly, inclined towards the interior of her home. "Maybe this is a conversation better held inside if that's alright with you Mrs..." The woman blinks, wide-eyed before jumping out of the way and letting Connor by.

"Of course, I, um... It's just Caroline, Caroline Phillips. My husband's name is John." She stammers, leading him into a well-furnished living room. It's spotless, not even a loose magazine laying around. Connor suspects Caroline might clean when she's stressed. Connor looks around, admiring the framed photo's on the mantle. Upon it, there's what Connor assumes to be a family portrait, Caroline sitting by a man with his arm around her shoulder, and a small girl wrapped against her side. Connor can put together the pieces of who is who. His curiosity peaks, however, when he sees another picture frame, this one turned face down to hide the picture. He picks it up as Caroline twists her hands nervously from her place on the couch. When she straightens the flower vase on the table for the third time Connor thinks his suspicion is correct.

He runs his eyes over the picture, inspecting it closely. A blonde man is smiling, lifting Emma over his shoulders as she laughs. Connor finds it odd that it's a happy picture. 

"Is this Daniel?" He asks, and when Caroline sees the picture she flinches and quickly diverts her attention. She does answer, though.

"Yes." She admits, and Connor's eyebrows raise. He had been under the assumption before arriving that the deviant now known as Daniel had simply stolen Emma as food, though now it seems the motive might be something entirely different.

"You  _knew_ the deviant that stole your daughter? Quite well actually, judging by this picture." Connor accuses, placing the frame back- face down, just as he found it. "And you even knew his name. Tell me, why would Daniel want to hurt Emma?" 

"That's just it!" Caroline blurts, staring at Connor with wide teary eyes as he takes a seat across from her in a rather comfortable armchair. "Daniel would  _never_ hurt Emma, he's never hurt her before, I just... I don't understand  _why_ he's done this..." Connor frowns. This is... troubling, he decides. 

"How did you come into contact with Daniel?" Caroline frowns, rubbing at her temple.

"We... We found him, in an abandoned apartment that he'd been hiding in while on the run. My husband and I turn over property and sell it for profit and he just happened to be there when we were inspecting it. We didn't even buy the apartment." She laughs humourlessly. "He didn't have anywhere to go so... We took him in. Let him stay with us." Now  _that's_ interesting. Humans hate vampires. 

"And why would you let him do that?" 

"We... we thought he was genuine. That he really  _could_ feel. He just looked so sad and... We thought he had emotions, and he offered to look after Emma and keep the house tidy... it was... a win-win, for us. That's what we thought, at least. And then he just got... Angry all the time. Glaring at us when he thought we weren't looking, cleaning things wrong. We started to think we weren't safe in our own house! I mean, Daniel could rip us to shreds, tear our throats out one by one! Our food slowly began tasting bad, and then our  _dog-"_  She pauses to collect herself, tears welling up in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she shakes her head, finding it in herself to continue. "Uh, anyway, after that we just... Couldn't have him in the house anymore. Couldn't trust him around Emma. He got... angry. saying things about how he knew he couldn't trust humans, how the others had told him how _evil_ humans were. He said he was betrayed and that... That he thought we loved him. Thought he was part of the family. Oh _god,"_ Caroline wraps her face in her hands, sobbing over her knees, her whole body shaking with the force of it. Connor's eyes narrow for just a moment. What  _others?_

"We did love him! We loved him so much!" She hiccups, looking at Connor in agony. "And then he said we'd regret it, and Emma was gone the next morning!" Caroline breaks down all over again, wrapping her hand over her mouth to muffle the noise. Connor doesn't know how to comfort her, and so he doesn't offer any.

"This apartment you found Daniel in, where is it?"

 Caroline shakily gives him a downtown address, still on the human side, not that Connor would expect any different. Connor stands and fakes another smile.

"Thank you for your time." He says, but Caroline grips his arms tightly, her cheeks wet with tears now as she stares into him, desperate. Connor feels something like dread begin to build up inside of him. 

"Please, you have to... bring her home safe, please! Just... save her!"

Connor never fails his mission.

"I will." Why does he feel so bad?

 

* * *

 

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Chloe asks as Connor slides back into the car. Connor nods, relaying the address to the apartment. If Daniel hasn't gone there, Connor doesn't know where he would have gone. Chloe pulls off the curb and starts driving again, humming softly to herself. After a moment though, the silence must be too much, because she asks another question.

"What do you think of Amanda, Connor?" Connor narrows his eyes and stares out the window, unsure what Chloe is so desperately searching for in conversation.

"She's a great leader. She's... someone to look up to. She took me under her wing when I was young, me and my brothers." Chloe seems a bit off-put when he mentions his brothers as though she's surprised.

"You admire her. Greatly." Chloe says, the warmth of understanding in her voice. "Tell me, Connor. If she told you to kill yourself, would you do it?" Suddenly her smile is gone, and her warm eyes seem cold as they stare at him through the rearview mirror. Connor's eyes widen as he shakes his head.

"She would never-" 

"Tell me, Connor. Would you do it? Kill yourself to appease her? Are her orders greater than your own life?" Chloe interrupts, but unlike Connor she's calm, every question pouring out of her mouth with certainty. The more confused Connor is the more certain she seems to get. 

"I- If Amanda- Yes- I wo- I would do it." He stumbles over his answer, but his voice cracks and his hands tremble just slightly. Chloe doesn't seem convinced.

"And what if Amanda ordered you to kill her? Would you do that?" The world passes in a blur outside his car door and Connor feels like the world is spinning. "What does it matter, Connor? You shouldn't feel anything, right? You  _don't,_ feel anything. So tell me why you're doubting your answers. Why would you doubt Amanda's orders? Would you do it, Connor? Or more importantly,  _could_ you? Amanda doesn't feel emotions, Connor. Do you?" Connor feels like his head is going to explode.

"I-I'm not a deviant." 

"Answer my question."

"I'm not a-"

"Tell me the truth, I want to know."

"I couldn't do it- no, she's..." Connor would never kill Amanda. He couldn't- Just imagining a gun pointed at her temple gives him shivers. The same shivers he gets when he imagines her pointing the gun towards him. Connor just couldn't do that to her-

"You love Amanda, don't you? You think she's your mother." Chloe's voice has softened again, and Connor's chest relaxes just slightly. He thinks over his answer for a long moment.

"She's... my mentor. My Queen. How-" Connor feels prepared to all but sing her praises, but Chloe stops him again.

"Just remember, Connor." The car rolls to a stop and Chloe's infinitely deep blue eyes are staring him down once more. "She doesn't love you." Connor's gut twists in circles, pain radiating from deep inside of him. He didn't even know there was a pain like this.

She smiles at him one last time as he exits the car as smooth as he entered, fixing quirks in his suit for a moment without moving away, trying to fix that pain inside him. Chloe rolls down the passenger window, catching Connor's attention and surprise. She grins, looking almost guilty. Why would she-?

"I'll see you soon Connor," She promises, setting off alarm bells in Connor's head. Amanda never hires the same driver twice. "And I'm sorry about your driver, he's fine, however, I assure you. Think about our conversation, will you? Make the right choice." With wide eyes, Connor can do nothing but watch as she drives away. He doubts she will be the driver who picks him up. He frowns, he'll have to worry about the strange woman another time, for now, he has a mission to accomplish. 

He sets up to the apartment building. It's just as ratty as Connor would expect it to be. He starts his way inside, and on the broken glass of the front doors, there's a faded sign warning that the building has been condemned. Probably a perfect hiding place for Daniel. He forces the doors apart, looking around the dark interior of the lobby. It almost looks as though no one has been in here for ages, but Connor can see dragging footprints in the dust on the floor. His suspicion grows as he follows the drags in the dust. Eventually, he catches a glimpse of a smear of red on the floor. Blood. Most likely, Emma's. He follows the trail a bit faster, climbing flights of stairs and entering a long hallway lined with doors. Most of the doors are broken in, and Connor's eyes are instantly forced to draw themselves to the only door still in one piece. Blood is smeared on the floor outside it, almost as though someone was  _dragged-_

Connor presses his ear to the wood, and he can hear frantic whispering from inside. It hadn't occurred to him until now, but a vampire probably would have been able to hear Connor forcing the broken doors open in order to get inside.

He twists the knob- it's unlocked, probably because the lock is broken- and slowly opens the door. The first thing Connor sees is Daniel, a gun in one hand and a blood-covered Emma sobbing and wrapped tightly his other arm. Connor raises his hands slowly, his eyes wide as his eyes dart between the gun pointed at him and the hand wrapped around Emma's mouth to muffle her cries. Daniel looks wild, his blonde hair messy and his hand that holds the gun shaking. His clothes are smeared in dirt and Emma's blood, and he keeps shifting on the balls of his feet. Daniel is terrified.

Oddly, it isn't Emma's neck that's bleeding. Daniel hasn't fed from her, it's her knee that's dripping crimson red. She must have fallen in the struggle. It comes as a surprise to Connor that Caroline was right in saying that Daniel wouldn't hurt Emma.  _Yet._

"HI Daniel, My name is Connor." Daniel's eyes widen, his grip on the gun tightening for a second.

"How do you know my name?" He asks, frantic and quick. Connor smiles, trying to look friendly.

"I know a lot of things about you, Daniel. I'm a deviant, like you. You should just let the girl go, Daniel. I can help you." Connor steps forward, but Daniel jerks the gun, ad Connor freezes.

"Don't come any closer! I don't know you!" He barks, and Emma squirms in his arms, her face screwing up as she begins to let out muffled sobs. Connor raises his hands a bit higher, deciding on a new approach.

"You don't want to hurt Emma. You're not going to hurt her, so just let her go, and we can forget this whole thing." Daniel shakes his head, tightening his grip instead of letting her go.

"I know you, you're Connor, right?" Daniel nods, and Connor's stomach drops. "I know you. You're the deviant hunter. That's what you're here for. To kill me. The only thing between me and you is her-" He shakes Emma, taking his hand off her mouth to hoist her up against his side, wrapping his arm around her waist. Emma yelps, fresh tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. "So why would I let her go?" Daniel asks, voice dangerously low.

"She has a family, Daniel. That family loves her- loves you. You can walk away from this, unharmed. I'm not going to hurt you, just let her go." Connor says, taking a nervous step forward. 

"I thought that! I thought they loved me! They accepted me! Took me in when I left from Amanda's rule! I thought they cared!" Connor doesn't understand the desire in all deviants to run from Amanda and leave their society. Amanda is a firm, but just ruler. She cares- as much as a vampire can that is- for them. She does care. All vampires are her children. All vampires but deviants. Connor is glad he'll never become one. "But they didn't. Humans hate us, they'll always hate us. They let me stay because I did things for them. They didn't  _love_ me, and neither does she. I have nowhere to go." Daniel shakes his head, misery rushing over his expression like a heavy wave of hopelessness. 

"What am I going to  _do...?_ _"_ He asks himself, and Emma sobs harder. 

"I love you, Daniel! I do! I love you, I love you-" Daniel's expression hardens at Emma's desperation, and he shakes his head, whispering in an angry rasp into her ear.

" _No you don't, No you **don't**." _

"Let the girl go," Connor warns, voice calm but flat. "If you kill her, it's all over. no hope for redemption. Let her go, and you won't be hurt." Daniel's eyes flare with anger, wild and untamed.

"I know your game, deviant hunter, no matter what I do with Emma, you'll cut me wide open for your Queen." There's a hiss in his voice, and Daniel even goes as far as to flash his fangs. Adrenaline rushes through Connor like ice, his heartbeat picking up. It all happens faster than Connor can comprehend, and it's over before he can even move. 

Daniel moves the gun away from Connor and presses it firmly against Emma's temple. He shoots her- right through her head, quick and fast and Connor hopes painlessly. Red explodes from her head, drenching her face and drenching her clothes and Daniel's trembling hands. Before Connor can even process her death, Daniel's pressed the gun under his own chin and squeezed the trigger, no doubt, only agony. Blue sprays across the wall and his corpse drops instantly, crashing against the floor with Emma wrapped in his arms, her cheeks still wet with tears. Deviants are unpredictable. He could never have predicted this... not this. this mess, this cold-blooded desperate murder. Daniel knew he couldn't get away, and Emma wasn't leaving without him. He found a different escape and he took it.

Everything is silent for a long moment as Connor stands there staring at the corpses and feeling like the world is crashing down around him. He wasn't the one to pull the trigger for once, yet, more than ever before, these deaths are on his hands. He looks down, and his suit is stained in the spray of blood. He's drenched in regrets and failures.

Another ruined suit.

A dead human.

He's failed his mission.

Amanda will be disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! YAY A CHLOE HAS BEEN SPOTTED! Literally one of my favorite characters, I can't get enough of her. I know this had a pretty dark twist, but I don't quite put it above Daniel. He's capable of killing Emma, and knowing he won't escape unharmed he's ready to take her down with him. hopefully the surprise Chloe made up for it ;)  
> This is a lot longer, but hopefully, it wasn't boring.  
> MARKUS ISN'T EVEN HERE YET AND I CAN'T WAIT  
> I appreciate all of your support, and will probably update again soon!
> 
> (Lowkey unedited)


	4. Her Approval Is Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda is angry with Connor, and for the first time, he's forced to feel the burn of her disappointment. He can't help but think back on his conversation with Chloe.

As Connor expected, there's no car waiting for him when he exits the apartment, covered in blood and haunted. He's shaking and he can't get himself to stop, doing anything but thinking about what he's left behind him in that apartment. He watches apathetically as the rain washes the blood from his suit. He'll still dispose of it. He doesn't think he'll be able to look at it again after today. Connor sits on the curb, for the first time in his life truly feeling the cold as it bites at him from the inside out. He reaches deep into his pocket and retrieves his phone, though he rarely uses it. He feels nauseous as he dials the familiar number to the castle, a private line leading straight to Amanda's ever listening ear. As the phone begins to ring a whole different kind of cold washes over Connor and for a split second he contemplates walking back. 

It's a stupid idea, and so he continues to wait with closed eyes for his call to be answered. He doesn't want to look at the rain, the cold bitterness leaves him numb enough as is. So Connor closes his eyes to sit in inky blackness, the only sound he allows himself to hear being the repetitive ring in his ear. Suddenly the line clicks, and a voice greets him pleasantly. 

"Hello?" Asks a woman that isn't Amanda. Connor doesn't know why, but his heart sinks. He'd wished nothing more than to just hear Amanda's voice. He supposes he will hear it soon enough as she scolds him, venting her disappointment and disbelief at the measure of this failure. Connor opens his eyes against his better judgment, leaving that dark void to face the real world. He empties his doubts just for a moment to sound like he's as empty as he wishes he was. 

"Hello. This is Connor, I'm requesting a pick-up vehicle from my latest mission. I'm here downtown in the h-"

"We know where you are. Thank you, Connor, I'll inform Her Highness of your impending arrival. A car is on the way." The woman interrupts him, her voice sugar sweet and empty. Connor feels a shiver run down his spine, and he wants to physically recoil.  _They know where he is?_ Connor clears his throat, trying to appear put together, but the line clicks dead before he can even thank the mystery woman. Connor sits on the curb for what feels like hours, the sky drenching him in tears until he can no longer feel the cold inside him.

Eventually, a car does pull up, a royal emblem on the side. Connor knows Amanda has sent this car specifically for him, and dread settles heavy in his gut. He's never failed a mission before, and now-The realization that she'll be disappointed makes him grit his teeth and wring his hands together. All he'd wanted- he doesn't want anything. He's failed his purpose. If Amanda decides to rid herself of him because of this mistake, she'd be completely right in doing so. But... Connor doesn't  _want_ that.

He stands up and opens the door to the car, slipping inside the backseat. The driver is something more of what Connor is used to. He's muscled and his entire aura bleeds intimidation. He doesn't initiate conversation, simply watching as Connor situates himself before pulling off the curb smoothly and driving silently. Like all those before him, he seems uninterested in conversation. Normally Connor would be fine with that, maybe even thankful, but Connor can't seem to keep his mouth shut. He figures it's just one of many bad decisions made today.

"Today my car was hijacked, a woman pretended to be my driver and got rid of the real one. Do you know anything about that? Does Queen Amanda?" Connor asks, voice empty and mechanical, sounding exactly like it's supposed to. Connor doesn't give up Chloe's name, though. He doesn't know why, but he decides to keep that to himself. His driver doesn't reply at all though and keeps his eyes on the road, not even a twitch or flick of an eyelid. He just keeps driving, not acknowledging Connor at all. It makes Connor's stomach turn. Maybe it's a sixth sense, but Connor can practically feel the storm waiting on the horizon, and Amanda's anger simmering just under the surface behind the tight wraps of her apathy.

It's almost as though she already knows of his  _devastating_ failure, waiting in her throne impatiently to slit his throat. However, he knows the next time she makes an opening to see him he will meet her by her roses, and as always, her empty stare will trick him into believing somewhere inside there's warmth. Now... He's not so sure anymore. 

Connor suddenly doesn't know what he's thinking. What does it matter? She's his Queen, it's not his place to doubt her. She's not supposed to feel anything, and she doesn't. Emotions are an awful tyrannous curse, one that Connor should never wish to infect her with. But he does wonder what it would be like, just once, for her to smile at him in a way more than just formal politeness and tell him that he's made her proud. She won't, Connor knows. Especially not now that he's failed his mission. He might never even get the opportunity to make her proud again.

The car rolls through the barrier between races, venturing back into vampire territory, getting closer and closer to Amanda herself, and her wrath. Connor hopes she doesn’t know of his shame yet. The terrible, aching shame of the blood of a human child drenching his palms. She won’t be happy, Connor knows that much. He can’t even begin to think about what repercussions might happen now that he’s failed. She had told him it was delicate- a matter so political it hadn’t been about Emma in the slightest. A vampire killing a human. The news will spread like wildfire. And the flames will  _roar_ once it’s unearthed that Daniel hadn’t killed her out of a devastating hunger that had left him two steps short of purely feral, but that he had shot her instead. Right in the skull, with Connor unable to do anything but watch. He killed her- and Connor still isn’t quite sure for what. 

Why would Daniel  _do_ that? Connor doesn't understand. He's not sure if he wants to. He was sure-absolutely  _positive-_ that Daniel had loved Emma. Daniel had never given anyone any reason to believe otherwise until those last moments, and even then... Connor's mind fills with the image of the small human girl, tiny and trembling in Daniel's grasp, not begging Connor for help, no, but begging for Daniel to believe her. 

 _"I love you, Daniel!"_ Her voice echoes inside Connor's skull like a ghost's. It's thick with affection and deep with fear. Her last words, just trying to tell Daniel how  _loved_ he truly was. " _I do! I love you, I love you-"_ And then Daniel's denial. The firm belief, without a fragment of doubt, of how unloved he was. The opposite sides of a coin. He wonders how Caroline Phillips feels, if when she hears the news if it'll be like losing two children, or just one. 

 _"No, you don't."_ That unsaid hurt,  _you don't love me but I thought you did. Why don't you love me?_   The betrayal he couldn't understand and couldn't bear alone. Connor feels sorry- sorry to Daniel, sorry to Emma, and most of all sorry to Caroline who he promised- _promised_ \- to bring her daughter home safe and very much alive. He lied. He couldn't save her, failed his mission, and broke his promise. Whatever punishment he gets he deserves. Still, he wonders what it feels like to be loved. Wholely and unselfishly. What would it feel like, he wonders, to have Amanda's love?

Chloe's eyes burn bright in his memory, sure of herself when Connor isn't.

 _"Just remember, Connor."_ Connor doesn't want her to say it. He doesn't want to  _hear-_ _"She doesn't love you."_ And the forever unsaid,  _no one will._ If Amanda doesn't love him, who does? It hurts, being unloved, Connor thinks. But he's not supposed to hurt, so he pretends like he doesn't. Instead of hurting he looks out his window and watches tall buildings pass, and watches as they pass through the gates to the castle, pulling slowly up the long drive to his doom. When the car full stops, he doesn't get out for a moment and closes his eyes. Black envelops him, and he feels slightly better. Though when he opens his eyes, he's as unprepared as before. Either way, he steps out and makes his way up the wide steps made of marble. It's dark, Connor notices, the night finally coming to devour the city whole. Vampires don't sleep though. Strangely, Connor wishes they did. Maybe then he'd be able to hide in the night from Amanda, sleeping until his dreams washed away his guilt. But Vampires don't sleep, so Connor takes the familiar path to the garden. He's halfway there before a maid steps into his path, her head bowed low. 

"Her Highness requests your presence in the lounge." She says, her voice small and empty. He hadn't noticed it before, the emptiness in everyone here. He nods, just as empty, and she steps out of his way, her face immediately forgotten once she leaves his sight. Connor steps away, heading towards the lounge as instructed. The two guards barely glance at him before letting Connor knock on the door.

"Enter," Amanda calls from within. Connor obeys, opening the door and sliding inside the room. Amanda sits calmly upon a loveseat, her ankles crossed and that silver crown still on her head above the braids of blue. A tea set made of the finest china is set on the coffee table in front of her, patiently waiting to be used. Connor can smell the blood inside the kettle, a high caliber made for the Queen and  _only_ the Queen. "Take a seat, Connor." Amanda smiles, looking into the fireplace even as she waves Connor to the armchair beside her. Connor obeys without much thought, sitting as obediently as a trained dog.

Amanda waves her hand to the tea set, and without a word passed between them, Connor lifts the kettle, pouring a cup of crimson for her. Amanda watches him the entire time, eyes sharp. Eventually, she speaks.

"You called for a car. Why?" She asks, and for the first time, it crosses Connor's mind that Amanda might not be all-knowing after all. 

"My car was hijacked, the real driver was incapacitated from what I was told. I suspect the vampire who did it to be a deviant. The hijacker was a woman." Connor explains, but Amanda doesn't widen her eyes in surprise or look worried for Connor's wellbeing had Chloe wanted to do him harm instead of having a confusing chat. Amanda hums after a moment, her eyes reflecting the light from the fireplace.

"The deviant, did she have a name?" Amanda asks, and Connor thinks for just a second too long, and Amand's eyes snap to him, catching his own as though daring him to lie. Daring him to defy her authority. Connor's heart stutters in his chest.

"No," He says at last, and to his own ears, he sounds sure of himself. "The deviant didn't tell me her name. I was only aware she wasn't my designated driver once she told me after dropping me off at the location of my mission." Amanda nods as though she believes him, and lets his eyes go. 

"Your mission." She says, as though only just now remembering. "Tell me about it." Connor's mouth goes dry, and his hands tremble in his lap. And here he is, in the chasm of death at last. She's too calm. Where's her smile at his return, the warm greeting of his name on her lips, full of adoration and promise? It all seems so far away now as he sits in the lounge, the only sound between them being the crackle of the fire.

"I went to the parent's of the human girl first, whose name I discovered to be Emma. I talked with her mother, Caroline. She told me they'd taken Daniel in when he'd run from under your rule, the most likely cause being his deviancy. She then described him growing hateful towards them, killing their dog even. Caroline said she and her husband had thought it best to make Daniel leave before he became violent with them. Daniel said something about ' _others'_ being right about humans and stole away Emma in the night. I found them hiding in an abandoned apartment." Connor stops then, afraid to continue.

Amanda hums, closing her eyes to digest the new information.

"This is upsetting." She begins, frowning just slightly. It's the first expression Connor has seen from her all night. "If there are other deviants, especially in the human world attempting to blend in... Perhaps even forming ranks,  _organizing_ a revolution, ready to cause a civil war- It can't be allowed to happen." Connor nods, relief rushing over him. 

"I understand, Amanda." He says, accepting the mission. Instead of a nod, or a dismissal, Amanda narrows her eyes at him. She leans back slightly, interlocking her fingers in her lap.

"Tell me, Connor. About your mission. All of it." Connor gulps, the action unfamiliar and shaky.

"I... I located the deviant named Daniel, and the human girl. He held her at gunpoint. I couldn't stop him- couldn't convince him to let her go... He shot her, and then himself. I'm sorry Amanda." He says chest heavy with his racing heart. Amanda sighs, looking down at her tea set, her own cup filled with a regal red. She doesn’t even pick it up though, and Connor’s stomach turns. 

“The human child is dead?” She asks, calmly, her eyes deep black pools of nothingness just waiting to devour Connor whole. When Connor nods, his hands shaking in his lap, she merely sighs, and finally- begrudgingly- picks up her cup. She raises it to her lips and takes a long sip, going as far as to close her eyes. She looks perfectly calm, as though she doesn’t have a care in the world. Connor is the exact opposite.

”What was the child’s name?” She asks, still unbothered by the gravity of the situation. Hadn't Connor told her already? He thought he had- no, he's sure he had. Connor doesn’t understand how the death doesn’t weigh her down, but he’s grateful for it all the same. She’s a life preserver in his sea of doubts.

”Emma. Emma Phillips.” Connor supplies, the name sounding almost rotten on his tongue. He feels as though he’s shaming her simply by speaking it. Amanda doesn’t outwardly react at all, setting down the fine china in her hand with a small clink. She nods, folding the napkin on her lap, and finally looks Connor straight in the eyes. There’s no anger in her gaze, but oddly that doesn’t make him feel any better. Instead, all he feels is the overbearing crush of unease under her icy gaze, like looking into the eyes of death.

”You failed your mission, Connor,” She says finally, and Connor’s stomach drops. He’d known this was coming, but fear wraps around him like a coil, all the same, squeezing the air out of his lungs. ”Daniel is dead, as discussed. However... The girl is also. This is a terrible failure, one that will cause tension, perhaps even war between the races! There will be repercussions to your failure, Connor.”

Connor, knowing all of this already, bows his head. If she chooses to slice his head clean off at his exposed nape, well, Connor only hopes she's quick about it.

"But," She begins, tilting her head like this is some interesting game. "Maybe there is redemption for you yet." Connor practically jumps from his seat in joy, always ready to please.

"Yes, of course, Amanda, I promise-" He begins, pathetically close to begging. Amanda raises a hand, and instantly his mouth snaps shut.

"Kill the parents." She says, apathetic and serious as she raises the cup to her lips again. Connor is left reeling, staring at her in shock for a long moment. Maybe feeling something close to pity, she elaborates. "The parents of the girl you failed to keep alive. Kill them. No repercussions, a simple solution. No tension between the races, no one will know of this humiliating failure." Connor feels like he's been struck by lightning, a thousand electrified thoughts buzzing through his skull.

"But-" He argues still half paralyzed in shock, "That would violate at least a dozen laws and treaties between-"

 ”It’s not your place to question me, Connor.” There’s a bite to those words, thick and harsh, snapping at him like a whip. “This is your mission, I can’t allow you to fail again. Complete it, and all will be forgiven.” It's an olive branch. The only one Connor will get. He has no other choice, and Amanda is always right.

"Of course, thank you, Amanda. I accept." There's a cruel familiarity in those words. Connor stands without much other choice and heads to the doors to the lounge.

 Before he leaves, Amanda's voice stops him.

"Don't say I've never done anything for you, Connor." A chill runs down his spine. Always unsaid-

_You owe me._

 

* * *

 

He's standing on the Phillips' porch for the second time today, this time in the middle of the night with a heavy feeling in his gut. He knocks on the door hard enough for the wood to creak under his fist. Slowly lights begin to flick on one by one, frantic footsteps charging down the stairs. Connor doesn't want to be here. He'd rather be back in the garden, back when Amanda still smiled at him.  _She will again_ _once we complete the mission_ he reminds himself, but it's an empty promise. a lie, even to himself.

John Phillips answers the door this time, fully looking the part of a sleep-deprived parent. He has a similar reaction to when Caroline first saw Connor, John's nose scrunching as his face recoils in disgust. When Caroline follows him down the stairs, however, still tying the strings to her robe, she gasps when she sees him. She pushes past John, gripping Connor's arms tight in her hands. 

"Where's Emma? Where's my baby?" She asks, frantic with wide terrified eyes, unwanting of the news Connor will have to deliver. 

"Maybe we should go inside," Connor says because he can feel the eyes of his driver digging into the back of his head, waiting for something Connor doesn't want to go through with. Caroline's eyes dim like she already knows what he's going to say, but she nods anyway and makes her husband move aside, opening up her living room to Connor once more. Connor doesn't sit, even as Caroline settles beside John on the couch with wet eyes.

"Go ahead," Caroline whispers, agony drenching every word. She does know, and he can see that pain in her tired face. John frowns, closing his eyes like he can't bear to face the truth.

"I'm sorry," Connor says, surprised by how much he means it. "I couldn't... I know I promised you, I just... I'm sorry, I couldn't save Emma." Instantly once his lips form the words, her entire body sags and erupts in loud aching sobs. She clutches her chest like she's trying to rip her heart out, and John wraps her up in his arms, tears pricking his closed eyes too.

"Her body," Caroline croaks, looking up at Connor, but it's as though she's looking right through him. "I want her body! I want t-to give her a proper burial." She whimpers out, and Connor wishes he could give her daughters corpse to her. But he can't. By the time he leaves, Caroline and John Phillips will be dead. None of them will receive a funeral or a proper burial for that matter.

"I can't," Connor whispers, hating that he has to say it. Hating that he has to add pain upon pain wherever he goes. Caroline's grief flips to anger as though Connor's simply flipped a switch.

"What do you mean?" She hisses, and John looks at Connor now too, silent but just as wrathful. "I want my daughter! I want-" She chokes on her tears, powering through just to continue to scream. "What do you  _mean_ you can't?" Connor's heart breaks just a little, he thinks.

"Because you'll be dead too." He answers. He's sure he wasn't supposed to say that, but he continues despite it. "Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, I'm sorry to inform you, but I've been sent to kill you." Suddenly everything is silent, even the crying over a lost child has stilled if only for a moment.

"You...You're here to kill us? Queen Amanda sent you?" Connor nods, and Caroline's face falls. He's told them. They know what's going to happen, and yet they sit unmoving on their couch, huddled together. Maybe its the loss of their child, the betrayal of Daniel. It shouldn't matter to Connor. He has a mission.

He should do it. Pull out his gun- two clean shots, and the whole thing would be over. He’d be forgiven. Everything would go back to how it was. He stares into Caroline’s teary eyes, full of grief only a mother can feel and then looks to her husband's strong arm wrapped around her like she’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart, and he knows what he should do. He should kill them as Amanda has ordered. Everything would be okay again then. She would be happy with him- glad he’d fixed his mistake and life would go on. He’d be favored again, and Amanda would never doubt him. Killing them- it should be easy. They mean nothing to Connor, and Amanda is everything. It should already be in his nature, killing humans. It should be  _easy._ He has everything to gain and nothing to lose. 

There's not even a choice, no decision to make. It's already been made for him.

His fingers don't even brush the metal of the handle.

"Run," He says instead, and he doesn't know why. It's a terrible and foolish decision, but it's the least he can do for Emma. For  _Daniel._ "Run where she can't find you. Run, and don't come back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA I'M BACK! I'm so grateful for all the support this story has gotten in such a short span of time! Thank you for all your wonderful Kudos and comments! I hope you enjoy the longer chapters better! THIS IS NEAR 4,000 WORDS I THINK  
> Things just went from bad to worse with Amanda! Loyalty isn’t quite so honorable anymore... 
> 
> ALSO! HANK IS WELL ON THE WAY TO AN APPEARANCE! he's grumpy but lovable :,)


	5. There's Life In Those Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor must cover up his tracks and aid the Phillips in their escape.
> 
> Amanda has a council meeting concerning this new concern to their way of life- deviancy.

"Run?" Caroline whispers like she doesn't understand, but her eyes are wide with a hope Connor hasn't ever seen before. He can't help but watch, fascinated by the  _life_ in her eyes. Connor knows now, even if he'd wanted to he would never have been able to kill her. Not with eyes so full of life. Everyone Connor has ever known has had empty eyes. Or maybe, he just didn't know what life could look like. It's nothing to dwell on now, he supposes. He has enough regrets as is, with no time to dwell on them. "Where would we  _go,_ Connor?" Somehow he's surprised Caroline has remembered his name. Connor shakes his head, looking back and forth between the scared looking couple. They look like children, he thinks. just unsure children with no one to light the path to safety. 

"I don't know," He admits, trying to sound confident in his confusion. "But wherever you run, I'll help you get there." He hadn't meant for them to still be alive when he'd knocked on the door. And now- helping them evade his Queen of all things? Maybe Connor really is rotten. Wide eyes stare at Connor, shocked, if not grateful. 

Caroline shakes her head like she can't believe it, and then she laughs. A phantom chill runs down Connor's back, fierce like fire and cold like ice. Suddenly it's like he's somewhere else, with a different face laughing in front of him. But this face is stained blue, stained with tears and a smile that isn't joy and then stained again with death. It's so odd to remember, so Connor doesn't. He did what he had to. What he's supposed to, and what he  _should_ do. Caroline laughs without anything to laugh for because she can't do anything but laugh.

"We..." Caroline sniffles, and blinks like for the first time tonight her eyes are open. "We could go to my sister's house. She lives off the borders, outside the city and away from the separation lines between the species." Caroline explains, wiping her face and having the mind to look half-ashamed of her tearful display. She looks to John, but the man nods, whispering something to her, he doesn't seem like a man of many words. With a destination in mind, Connor moves through the living room and back to the entryway, opening the door with the Phillips eyes following him the whole way.

"If we're decided, it's better we be on the way since every minute we linger is a minute you're supposed to be dead." He reminds them carefully with a raise of his brows, and thankfully the couple stands from the couch almost instantly. Caroline runs up the stairs, skipping steps to save time. In her absence, Connor turns his head to look back to his car and the vampire inside. Even from here, Connor can see the man's head still facing forward, his face a blank slate clear of emotions. He hasn't looked over once, unconcerned in the slightest at Connor's blatant treason only a few feet away.

Caroline thumps down the stairs, two suitcases dragging behind her filled to the brim with clothes and personalia. Connor wants to tell her it's not a good idea to take things with them, but he imagines somewhere in that bag there must be a picture of Emma, and so he keeps his mouth closed. John rushes to her side, taking the bags from her and fully playing the role of the dutiful husband. Caroline slides on a dark black coat lined with fur hanging by the door and passes a slightly puffier coat to John who accepts without complaint. Looking between the shaken ex-parents, Connor can't help but ask.

"Ready?" He questions and Caroline finds it in herself to snort. It makes Connor grin, but he doesn't understand why. Nothing in the world makes any sense for him to smile, but one finds it's way to his lips regardless. "Alright. That's our car." Connor points, although it's easy to point out since this car has the bright royal emblem embedded on its side, a deep blue rose, Amanda's mark. The couple doesn't bother with questions and instead hurry forward to the back of the car, while Connor opens the passenger door to tell his driver to pop the trunk, to which the man does so obediently. John piles the luggage inside and closes the trunk with a slam as Caroline climbs into the backseat. John joins her, and despite his own unease Connor allows them their space and opts out to the passenger seat. 

"My sister lives in Florence, we'll have to take a bus," Caroline explains, but the vampire at the wheel makes no movements at all. Caroline's brows furrow in confusion, and Connor's eyes narrow as well. After a moment with no movement, Caroline's nerves seem to begin to get the best of her. "Did you hear me? I said we need to go to the bus station, please." The only reply is a slow drag of his eyes away from the road and in Connor's direction, searching for approval, confirmation,  _orders._ The vampire looks as though it's physically painful to move his eyes from the road and look at Connor. It's horrifying to watch and it certainly makes more than a few questions roar in Connor's mind, but for now, he simply nods if only to break his driver away from his seemingly painful gaze on him.

Instantly his driver snaps forward again like a whip, finally allowing the car to move. Connor stares at the man with wide eyes. How had he ever been fooled that Chloe was supposed to be his driver for even a minute? His drivers- all of them, had been trained, even from childhood possibly, for this specific task. To drive silently, perfectly. To never ask questions, only to do as asked. Connor's mind stutters, thinking of how many faces he'd burned through, of how many drivers he'd had during his countless missions. What had become of them after their job was done?

_Connor could see himself in them._

 What would become of Connor after his job was done and Amanda had no more use of him?

"Are you sure we can trust him?" Caroline asks, but to Connor's surprise when he looks she's looking at him, searching for assurance in Connor. Connor drifts his eyes to the vampire behind the wheel, a blank slate empty inside and out. Obedient, so very unlike Connor. This vampire would never think of defying orders. Connor nods, for once feeling sure of himself. He believes in this vampire, even if it's only for now. He'll never see this man again after tonight.

The car rolls silently through the night, but no one sleeps or makes conversation. The only sound is the tires on the road and breathing. Connor can't relate to the Phillips, not really. He can't begin to imagine what it must be like to lose a child. He knows it's devastating. Maybe even more than that, an indescribable pain that never really goes away. Connor knows what it's like to lose a parent, he hopes that's enough. Eventually, they reach the station, and Connor opens the trunk, getting there before John to help with the luggage. When the man moves to take the bags away, Connor only hands him one of them and keeps a firm grip on the other. Caroline smiles as she climbs out of the car, and wraps her hand around John's free one. Connor leads them up to the station, and sets their luggage down gently, looking between them worriedly. He hadn't saved them just for them to be hunt down and ultimately killed. 

"Change your names when you get there," He tells them sternly. "Even if only your last names." There's a long silence between the three of them that's deafening, even with the bustle of people around them hurrying into the station and out.

Caroline looks like she's going to cry. Maybe she will, actually, with the way her eyes are reddening and her lips begin to tremble. Her hands loosen from her hold on John's arm and wrap around Connor in the warmest hug he's ever received. The  _only_ hug he's ever received. She sobs into the crook of his neck, murmuring her thanks into his flesh over and over again like a broken record.  _It's not for you._ He wants to say.  _You live only because they can't._ But he doesn't open his mouth and instead lets Caroline cling to him like a motherless child, the opposite of what she's now become. Connor can offer little comfort, he's not meant to, and so when his arms wrap back around her his grip is weak and unsure.

" _Thank you_ ," She says, all too sincere. His debt has been paid. A life for a life. His failure doesn't weigh as heavy somehow. She trembles in the bitter cold of the night, even inside her coat. John, ever silent, presses a hand to Connor's shoulder, meeting his eyes and smiling. They understand- somewhat, not entirely, they could never understand entirely- the risk he's taking for them. He could be dead by this time tomorrow, but that's Connor's problem to worry about. Hopefully, the Phillips will be long gone by then, just a memory. A mission with no repercussions. 

"Thank you." He says, copying his wife. The man's voice is low and gentle, a soothing bass. It's the first and last words they will probably exchange, so instead of arguing Connor nods, accepting the undeserving gratitude from the man. Caroline pulls away, her eyes wet like he had been expecting, and places one hand over the left side of his face, pressing warm lips in a kiss over his other cheek. Connor's eyes slip closed, and he thinks it feels nice. He decides that Caroline is a sweet woman. Connor has never been kissed before. When Caroline pulls away she seems unsure when she places a hand on Connor's arm, as though she hadn't just kissed his cheek a second ago. She stares at him with nervous eyes, working up her courage.

"I hope we see you again Connor. You're a good person, and... If you ever need anything, we'll be here for you. Always. It's the least we can do for you. My sister's name is Addison Linton. Anything at all, Connor, we'll be here." Those alive eyes, so earnest, ready to help him as he'd helped them. He nods and allows himself to smile.

"Hurry before anyone realizes you aren't dead." He says, and they laugh like it's a joke, so Connor pretends it was one. As they begin to turn away, Connor opens his mouth for one final goodbye. "Thank you," He says instead, whispery and weak and so  _grateful_ for someone's concern. Caroline turns to smile at him, and even John gives him a nod, and they're gone. Maybe forever. Connor can't bear to say goodbye. Instead of watching them disappear, Connor turns and heads back to his car, sliding into the backseat again.

Those empty eyes staring at nothing look towards him, in pain, desperate for guidance and _orders-_

"Head to Riverside Park." Connor says, no- orders, and his driver, the same as the rest of them, doesn't even blink when Connor tells him to redirect them towards the separating river, the barrier between his world and the humans'. He just turns the car around and continues driving, as he is supposed to. If only Connor could be so simple.

This ride is longer than usual. Maybe because of the guilt inside him, or the mind-devouring dread of what's to come, but when the car pulls up into a park just on the shore it's as though the world is forgotten. Connor thinks the river is beautiful. It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. His driver- whose name Connor still doesn't know,- parks the car perfectly, right in front of the waterline. The river glitters in the light of the moon, looking like a sea of ink, the sins of all the mortal world poured into a river like such never seen before. It's a beautiful view from the driver's seat, and his driver never takes his eyes off what's in front of him. 

"You didn't even have a chance to choose anything," Connor says, even though it's not wise to talk.

The vampire doesn't react.

"What's your name? Do you have one?"

No answer. 

"Do you ever... Want?"

Nothing.

"Do you love as I do?"

Empty.

"You're so unlike me, and so much better."

Empty- like everyone around him. There's no life in those eyes.

Connor pulls out his gun and shoots one bullet exactly center into the back of his driver's head. Blue splashes the interior of the car, and his driver's head goes limp, falling forward onto the wheel and drenching it that same cool liquid blue. It looks black in the dark- like the river. bitter and beautiful. The horn blares, but Connor can barely hear it- it sounds muffled to him, far away. He pockets his gun, but his hand doesn't tremble, and he sighs long and loud. This is what he was trained his whole life to do. He's a killer, and his very nature prevents him from anything else. He should stop pretending to be anything otherwise.

He should. He will. He can't afford anything else, can't afford the luxuries of free will.

He slides out of the car and doesn't look back to the corpse inside, doesn't listen to the car horn. No one will know of the Phillips escape, no loose ends. 

_No repercussions,_ Amanda's voice echoes in his mind and Connor agrees bitterly. No repercussions. 

Connor strolls towards the river and stands still in the cold night, leaning on the bar that separates him and the water. He feels guilty. Yes, definite guilt. But his only guilt is for his lack of regret.

 

* * *

 

Amanda turns with a smile, warm and inviting as it always is.

“Connor,” She greets like a mother, gentle and kind and always understanding. The warmth of the sun beats down upon his back as he stands in front of Amanda’s familiar rose wall. He smiles back. “You’ve truly outdone yourself.” She compliments, one of the few she’s ever given him.  _Yes_ , Connor thinks in agreement. My, how he’s outdone himself this time. It feels like everything is wrong, as though something in the way he smiles or walks will give away his betrayal. Could he call it that? No repercussions, as they had discussed. He'd gotten rid of the Phillips. Maybe differently than Amanda had expected him to, but a mission success all the same. He's done nothing wrong.

Except for everything. Even he knows that.

"Thank you, Amanda." He says, with startling calm. Her eyes... Connor has missed this look. That gentle understanding, as though he's her greatest pride. _Her g_ _reatest weapon._  Her warmth envelops him with open arms like an old friend, familiar and oozing affection. But Amanda has no warmth. She's winter, an ice storm that rages and roars, but never loves. She's bitter and cold and ruthless. Connor shouldn't think that of her, but he shouldn't fool himself either.

Delusions are dangerous.

"I hadn't expected you to take care of the Phillips so quickly, but nevertheless, I cannot fault you for your perfection in a task," She says calmly with a friendly lilt to her voice, unknowing of how wrong she truly is. Of how terribly he'd failed. "The death of Emma was never reported, and not even the Phillips have been counted as missing persons. The bodies were disposed of from what I'm told and everything cleaned. Very good work, Connor." Her praise would warm him if it was warranted. There had been a cleanup and a body to dispose of- one nameless vampire with his head blown apart inside of a priceless car interior. Connor had been sure it would stain. 

"I'm glad to have pleased you." It's not a lie. Is she aware of what Connor would do for her? Does Amanda have even the slightest idea? Connor wonders if she does. He'd go to the ends of the earth if only she asked him to. He'd drench himself in blood if only to see her smile at him. The Phillips are still alive, and Amanda loves him again, just like she said she would, just like she promised. She doesn't say it, however.

_Is love something a switch you can turn on and off?_

_"Just remember Connor."_

Amanda doesn't smile again, and her silver crown glints with a strangely dark sheen to it's silver as she turns, motioning for Connor to walk beside her. He obeys, looking forward. He'd never noticed how much  _life_ roamed Amanda's garden before, from the fish in the pond to birds nesting above and flying from tree to tree. It's beautiful. Surely Amanda must be beautiful too then, to be able to harvest and create such perfection?

"There's a meeting today, I've called for the Council so we can discuss this... deviancy matter." Connor's eyes snap towards her, interested in some morbid curiosity. Amanda notices his attention and continues. "I want you there, I have an example I'd like you to witness." Amanda's warmth is washed away like a snap of the fingers, and for a second Connor is convinced he'd merely hallucinated it all. So instead, he nods and follows Amanda out of the garden. They make their way through unfamiliar corridors, down long halls Connor has never seen before. He's never been invited to a Council meeting. They're strictly political, discussions and decisions made for the betterment of their race. Freethinkers- almost. 

Connor is a tool, only used to eliminate threats. They have no use for him in these meetings, yet Amanda is leading him there anyway. He'd be foolish not to wonder why. They stop outside tall oaken doors, and the guards positioned outside them bow their heads once they see Amanda. When she waves her hand they move in haunting synchronization to open the doors. Connor eagerly drinks in the room, examining the Council with interest. There's a throne at the head of the room, made of silver and perched on a pedestal. Around the throne, there are stands with names engraved into the wood, perches for council members and their all-knowing eyes. All the stands are already full, all of them wearing identical blue robes that drape over their bodies and crowns of leaves dipped in gold. A man towards the far end of the room, furthest from the door and furthest from Amanda's throne, frowns when he sees Connor.

"What is the deviant hunter doing here?" He asks a certain distaste in his voice Connor can't quite pin down. Amanda doesn't blink and stalks to her throne with all the power and grace of a great predator. She sits in her throne, and for the first time, Connor notices there's an empty podium on the right side of her throne. She waves Connor to it, and he obeys as she answers the question.

"He's necessary. He's the deviant hunter, he should be involved in all discussions regarding them." She's logical, he's  _necessary,_ not  _wanted._ The council members face smoothes over, not concerned in the least at his presence once Amanda has said her piece. After a moment, Amanda's eyes slide over her council, and she seems pleased with the result. Everyone listens when she speaks, it's one of the many powers she holds. 

"I called this meeting because of my concerns for deviancy. It's a growing epidemic, with no cure and no known cause. This disease of the mind has cost us the lives of countless vampires and will continue to claim the lives of more if we don't put a stop to it. A possible theory is an exposure to humans and their emotions- an imitation of what they feel." Amanda says, as though deviancy had killed those vampires and not her orders. Or did their deviancy truly warrant a death sentence? There's a murmur amongst the council before a woman in the podium beside Connor speaks up.

"So we send an ambassador to integrate with humans and test the theory." She says, voice flat. The chatter quiets, and Connor can feel the burn of eyes on him. He looks to his side, meeting Amanda's thoughtful gaze. She's already made up her mind before Connor can beg her not to.

"We'll send Connor." She announces, and the same Councilman from earlier scowls.

"Send the deviant hunter to see if he becomes deviant?" He asks, sounding like he knows full well how much of a terrible idea it really is.

"I have the highest confidence in Connor's loyalty," For the briefest moment, their eyes meet again. "He's proven himself trustworthy." Connor feels sick. "In any case, he can hunt vampires in the human world, those who have escaped away to their side until we can determine a cause." She says, and her word is final, a law already in place with every breath. She has so much confidence- confidence in him. Connor can't bear to let her down. He won't fail her.

"Our next concern- a deviant organization, a rebellion of sorts, maybe attempting to form," Amanda says, frowning at the outroar of voices spouting questions. She merely holds up a hand and they silence. "Of course, this organization must be dismantled before being allowed to form. I have suspicions the roots are in the human world, and Connor with the proper connections and leads, will hunt these deviants to his full extent and destroy this terrorist threat." For once, the council seems happy about this ruling. 

Amanda stands suddenly and smiles wider than Connor has ever seen her smile. He doesn't understand, but clarity on this situation is something to regret having.

"To show you all the true threat of deviancy, I have brought a deviant here today for a public execution. Deviants blend in, look like any normal vampire. Even, a council member." Connor's blood turns to ice and the empty podium makes so much more sense. "Not just a council member, but a member of this terrorist organization, attempting to get a foot into our politics. He refuses to repent, to return to our society. Truly a destructive virus." The door opens again, this time a man enters, a black hood heavy over his head and covered head to toe in black- an executioner, Connor realizes, and his stomach turns. If Amanda could find a deviant amongst her own council, what of Connor?

No, he's not a deviant. He's not a threat, he's loyal to Amanda and Amanda only. 

But as the deviant councilman is lead in, dragged by his rope-bound hands, kicking and screaming and  _crying-_

 Connor wants to look away. No, he has to. He can't bear this-

"Watch, Connor," Amanda demands, apathetic and cold and nothing like the image Connor loves. He wonders- only for a second,- if she would look this way if he were bent under that blade. So unfazed by his death like he's no one but a stranger. But Connor watches, feeling like his drivers- unable to move his eyes, painful to look away but painful to watch. Existence is painful. The executioner forces him on his knees, the council member begs, teary and shaking hands in front of rows upon rows of empty faces who hold nothing behind them. Begging for something they don't deem worth sparing. Connor can't save this one. He can't save anyone.

"Please," He cries, "I never hurt anyone!"

This is all moving so fast-

The executioner draws back the sword that Connor has felt the shadow of, and even from here, Connor can see in that vampire, even from here Connor can tell there's-

The sword drops, swift and heavy and unforgiving. There's a sick gurgle, and what sounds like him choking on his own blood, desperate hands reaching up and being terribly uncoordinated. The hands miss his own throat completely before they find the shattered lumps of flesh stained a dark blue. The sword didn't cut all the way through. Terror, in the way wet eyes widen, begging-Connor feels sick as the sword has to be drawn back for another slice, his head connected only by tendons and shattered remains of a spinal cord, hanging limp and horrifyingly gruesome. Nothing can be done. Empty faces watch, doing what's necessary. Murder is necessary under Amanda's rule. The council claps once the deviant vampire's corpse sags lifelessly towards the ground. It all happened so  _fast._

Connor saw life in those eyes.

Connor hears her voice- Chloe's words stick to him like a curse.

_"She could **never** love you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I’m back! I love writing this!! And even more, I adore all your wonderful comments and Kudos!
> 
> THE PHILLIPS LIVE TO SEE ANOTHER DAY! or what's left of them I guess.
> 
> Oh Connor, poor thing. DENIAL IS THE ONLY THING MAH BOI HAS!!
> 
> So the council- spooky stuff. I tried to make it... cult-like, I suppose. Amanda is obviously a tyrannical ruler, with the whole vampire race under her thumb. I wonder how THAT is going to turn out ;) ... 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for enjoying another chapter and I hope to post another soon! :)  
> (Lowkey unedited)


	6. You’re Just Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor meets the executioner and heads out to begin his mission.

Blue stains the floor, and where just moments ago Connor longed for nothing more than to look away, he finds his eyes glued onto the corpse before him, a strange emptiness inside of him Connor can’t describe. That deviant lays with a decapitated head, his entire neck shattered. His corpse is proof enough for Connor of the monstrous lengths Amanda is prepared to go to destroy deviants. To destroy- 

Connor is not a deviant. No matter what lies that Chloe woman spins into his head, no matter whatever seeds of doubt his mercy to the Phillips might have planted- 

He’s not a deviant.

Applause roars in his ears from all around him, celebrating the gruesome display he's been forced to watch. They're all smiling, the apathetic beasts. Nothing but emptiness and a false sense of protection over the people they'd so easily kill. Is this what it's like to mindlessly obey Amanda? It's not his place to wonder. Three maids from the far wall hurry forward, two of them collecting the body. One maid has to drag the body by limp arms, smearing blood across the previously polished floor, while the other maid picks up the head that had finally disconnected during the fall in a somewhat successful decapitation. They carry away the multiple pieces of the corpse to who knows where while the third works on mopping up the heavy puddle of blood. The executioner stands still, basking in the afterglow of death like he's soaking in the applause and approval from the council. It makes Connor sick.  _Sick sick sick._

When Connor looks to the side, Amanda is clapping too. Her face is serene, satisfied at the gory execution. This was a  _sacrifice,_ Connor realizes. a sacrifice to Amanda, an extension of loyalty and a show of the consequences of betrayal. There's no laughter though, just stony faces in frozen smiles exhaling death everywhere they breathe. One by one they stand and file out of the room as if nothing had happened at all. The blue on the floor tells a much different story. Amanda stands, nodding to the executioner once and strides out. There's no dismissal, no 'this concludes our meeting', only the murder. Connor supposes in a way, this is symbolic of the end in itself. _Do they do this every time they assemble?_ Left with no choice Connor follows, leaving the room that's beginning to reek. 

He's shaken and maybe more scared than he's ever felt as he strides away from the room that will give him nightmares. When he's about to follow Amanda for the specifics to this mission, a hand grips his arm and pulls him around the corner of the corridor into a side hall away from any lingering prying eyes. The executioner stands there, drenched in the blue of blood and that dark hood and Connor has half the mind to snap the vampire's neck, but the executioner begins to laugh. It's sadistic, pain feeding it, and so eerily familiar. Connor suddenly feels so very cold.

That hood rips off, and Conan stands there in all his glory, identical brown eyes that are dark like sin staring into Connor's very soul. Connor forgets how to breathe, staring at the face completely identical to his own. His twin smirks at his shock, looking quite smug. 

"Hello Connor, long time no see." Conan greets, voice smooth like silk. Connor's gut twists, seeing all that blue on his brother, and he furrows his brow.

"You're... The executioner? You're  _Amanda's_ executioner?" He whispers, shaking his head and pushing himself off the wall. Conan looks well, filled out and completely identical to Connor except for that darkness inside of him. Conan looks proud and smiles at Connor, and that's the only answer he needs. "Conan, why?" Why would he take the job of a murderer? Connor supposes it's terribly hypocritical of him to ask. Conan scoffs, apparently realizing this too.

"As though your position is better? Are you afraid, Connor? Scared I'll whisk away all of Amanda's affection for you?" Conan asks, smirking and laughing like the idea absolutely thrills him. Connor is left reeling. 

"No," He argues with a stiff shake of the head, "I don't fear anything. I'm not a deviant." Conan smiles, and his fangs glint as he stares at Connor like he doesn't believe that in the slightest.

”Always the loyal one you are,” Conan says and although Connor might have taken it as a compliment in the past, the way Conan says it now makes unease crawl up Connor’s throat. “No need to fear, Connor. I could care less for Amanda’s affection.” Connor shakes his head, confused now. That doesn’t make any sense. She's the  _Queen-_ Who wouldn't want her favor? Why would Conan work such a gory and blood demanding job if not to be close to Amanda and her approval? His eyes widen, a disbelieving horror enveloping him. It’s just an idea- but he says it anyway.

"You're a deviant, you... kill for _fun,_ " Connor breathes out in his disbelief. Conan winks, smiling so wide his fangs are visible, glinting like a threat.

”I enjoy what I do. Is that so wrong?” Conan asks, fully unconcerned. Connor is disgusted. Did he not see that life? Those eyes were so desperate, so very alive. How could Conan be so unconcerned? So very much like Amanda?

”You enjoy killing?” Connor hisses, dropping the guise of apathy. It would do him no good anyhow. Conan shrugs, far too relaxed for someone drenched in blood. Connor can't understand how- All the blood Connor has seen in his life has left him stained forever and Conan is bathing in it.

“I do, greatly. You can report me, but no one would believe you. I do whatever is asked of me, I kill who I’m told, I enjoy doing it, and unlike you, I don’t fail.” Connor’s stomach drops through the floor.

”You know of my failure? Amanda told  _you?_ ” Connor whispers, his eyes darting around the empty hall. What happened to no one knowing of his failure? Of no repercussions? Conan laughs, loudly, and Connor jumps. He’s beginning to hate the sound of laughter, especially Conan’s. It’s cruel, mocking him.

”The seed of doubt has been planted already, Connor. By your own hands, too. Amanda doubts you. She doesn’t doubt me. I wonder what she’ll do when you deliver another disappointment to her?” Conan leans back on his heels, crossing his arms and looking so entertained Connor wants to run away if only to end the terrible game his brother is playing. Amanda may doubt him, but Connor trusts her fully, unconditionally, like his love.

”It’s not your place to question her decisions, she will do with me what she thinks best, and I will obey willingly,” Connor says honestly. He thinks he’s being honest, anyway. It’s hard to tell if he’s lying to himself lately. Suddenly Conan looks completely engulfed with rage, practically seething behind his mask of amusement.

“You’re such a child, Connor. You’re so very naive. Begging for mothers love, desperate for it- for her approval. It’s pathetic and I almost feel sorry for you. Poor Connor, so very ready to cast himself into the flames if only to catch her affection for a moment! Amanda isn’t a deviant, Connor. She could care less for you. All she concerns herself with is the death of her enemies, not little boys wanting to be coddled.” Shame burns Connor’s face deep and hot, and he shakes his head. It's not like that, he tells himself. Conan is wrong.

”Of course she’s not a deviant-“ The blow is sharp and pain burns through half of Connor’s face faster than he can process, blinking at Conan in shock and struggling to piece together a singular thought. Connor has never been hit before- not like this. Conan had hit him in anger, maybe to make a point or to assert some twisted dominance. Conan hit him because he could, and knew it would cause Connor pain.

”You’re an idiot,” Conan hisses, his eyes dark and full of wrathful hate. “I’m not. I work for myself, and yet you can’t get it through your head that these vampires you surround yourself with don’t care for you. They care for nothing, Connor, nothing! No one here cares for you, not Amanda, and certainly not me. You’re a broken tool, useless to everyone. But even my eyes are more open than yours, and for that, you’re a fool.” Hot heavy hurt envelops Connor, and even the swelling in his face can’t distract him from this pain.

”You’re my brother-“ He starts, but it’s weak and full of doubts- not even Connor is sure this vampire is his blood. Connor doesn't know him, not anymore. Conan shakes his head, entirely cruel and unforgiving of it.

”Not anymore. Maybe once, but we haven’t been anything more than names to each other the moment you failed your mission. Now, it would be wise of you to stay out of my way. Don’t think you’re better than me, Connor.” Conan warms, his voice slick like liquid fire burning Connor’s veins. “You’re not. You never have been and you never will be. Stop pretending any different.” Despite the pain inside of Connor, he accepts dully how right Conan is. Connor is a fool, a weak fool. It’s unacceptable, and Connor can’t afford to be that person anymore. Amanda will kill him otherwise.

Conan pats Connor’s struck cheek none too gently, making pain prickle under Connor's flesh as Conan chuckles to himself in some sadistic kick. He turns and begins to walk away, but stops just shy of leaving and looks over his shoulder to get one more final word in.

"I want you to know Connor, there is one difference between us- I _always_ complete my mission." Connor nods numbly and Conan smiles his sick grin again. It's a threat, a warning. 

_I will kill you the second I'm asked to._

_And I will enjoy it._

 

* * *

 

Connor waits, trying not to be too impatient. For the first time in days the sun has peaked over the clouds, and the shine lights up the streets outside the palace in a golden warmth. He has no right to be nervous since he's done this to himself, but an itching continues inside him that never quite subsides entirely. He wonders over the pros and cons of helping the Phillips escape, why his sense of duty to their dead daughter was greater than his loyalty to Amanda, who, if she found out of this betrayal would kill him herself. An incredibly risky, foolish choice. But the more Connor thinks of it the more he feels sure of his decision instead of regretful. Given the chance to redo it, he would save the Phillips every single time. He can't even imagine what they would look like with bullets in their skulls. The only death that night was his driver with the dead eyes.

No guilt in that murder, no itch of regret or sadness. Connor doesn't know why. Maybe because he's used to the dark blue of vampire blood and not the vibrant red. Vampires don't feel emotion, they aren't  _alive-_ they're just the product of a blood virus, reanimated corpses almost. Already dead, and the driver was no different. He was empty, with blank eyes and no name. But Connor saw pain and has no regret ending it. No loose ties to tattle of the Phillips escape. Connor wonders what Amanda does with the drivers once their duty is done. Does she seal their lips eternally too? Killing them to keep the secret of deviancy?

A car pulls up, still sleek and black with tinted windows and the blue rose of Amanda on the side. It's pristine, and innocent looking, as though no one had ever died inside. Connor opens the back door and slides inside. His driver is a woman, but she's not Chloe. She's just like the rest of them, silent and intimidating, with furrowed brows and brown eyes. She's quite beautiful- it's a shame Amanda will murder her. She's lean instead of bulky and doesn't wear her seatbelt. To be fair, neither does Connor. 

Chloe. Just another cause for confusion in Connor's life. Asking questions he can't answer, questions of emotions- of deviancy. He could have given Amanda her name- in fact, if he had, she would probably have been executed already. A shiver runs down his spine, thinking of the last execution Connor had witnessed. He's more than thankful now that he'd kept her name to himself. He couldn't bear to see the life in her eyes go dark. 

The car rolls away from the palace, leading Connor to his new life in the human realm for the duration of the investigation. The human side is brighter than Connor's- full of life and vibrancy that lacks among vampires. Connor hasn't seen anything like it, and most citizens under Amanda's rule will never get the chance. He stares out the window until his driver stops outside of a police department. Connor has never served under human law, in a democracy. He's always been under the direct command of Amanda, in her monarchy. He supposes if anything it will be a useful learning experience. He exits the car, watching as it pulls away. Connor raises a brow. Apparently, he won't be needing a ride back.

He enters the department with confidence, examining the secretaries at the front desk. He steps up in front of the unoccupied woman, who smiles upon seeing him. 

"Can I help you?" She asks pleasantly.

"I'm here to see Captain Fowler," He explains, noting how once the woman understands who- or rather what,- he is, she visibly recoils. She nods, and the smile has gone from her face as she gestures vaguely towards the entryway. 

"He's expecting you. You'll find him in his office- though you may want to meet your partner first." Connor raises an eyebrow in surprise. Partner? He hadn't been informed of being assigned a partner. Connor's confusion must show because the secretary takes some form of pity on him. "Weren't you told? you've been assigned to Lieutenant Anderson. He threw a whole fit when he found out." Connor nods his thanks and walks around the counter, passing by the security guard who barely glances up from his tablet. Connor can't help but be a tad irritated- he's been assigned a partner. Not only does he work better alone, but this Lieutenant Anderson seems to hate him and will most likely make his investigation much more difficult than it should be.

Nevertheless, Connor lets his eyes flick over the nameplates on every desk, searching for a- LT. HANK ANDERSON. And there it is, his partner's desk. Completely disorganized and decorated with anti-vampire stickers and slogans. Wonderful, just another obstacle. It's not uncommon for humans to hate vampires, but it's just Connor's luck he would get assigned a human passionate enough in that hate to put up stickers, displaying them like a badge. 

A gray-haired man approaches the desk, but he's not wearing a uniform. He's instead sporting a cup of coffee and wearing a button-up with a confusing design under a brown coat. Connor, seeing the man approaching, concludes this must be his partner. The supposed Lieutenant Anderson sighs out a long breath of annoyance the instant he spots Connor by his desk, rolling his eyes.

“For the last time, no, I’m not going to donate my fucking blood for you leeches to drink!” He exclaims, quite angrily too. Yes, Connor thinks, this man is definitely Lieutenant Anderson. Connor raises an eyebrow, and that's all it takes for Hank to pin his eyes on the blue rose embroidered on Connor's uniform. His face drops for just a moment in shock, before he scowls. He shakes his head, as though he's rejecting the very idea. Connor smiles in response.

"Lieutenant. I've been informed of our partnership. My name is Connor, I'm here investigating the cause of deviancy and a possible rebellion against my Queen, Amanda." The introduction is practiced, and if possible Hank's face screws up even further.

"You," He hisses, shoving Connor away from his desk to flop into his chair with an angry huff, "Are  _not_ my partner." Connor would like to contradict, tell Hank that  _Well actually,_ but a voice from behind him stops him before he can even open his mouth. 

"Hank, in my office!" The voice demands sternly, to which Hank sighs and reluctantly peels himself out of his chair to make his way into the office. Connor turns, watching as a brown-skinned man retreats into the glass room, Hank following with surprisingly little complaint. Connor follows without being asked, slipping in before the door closes. The man, being Captain Fowler Connor realizes, watches as he slips in, but doesn't object or seem to want him to leave.

“Look, Hank, this is a representative sent by Queen Amanda herself. He’s here to investigate deviants, see if there’s any link between humans and the cause of deviancy in vampires. Additionally, he's hunting a terrorist organization. It would cause more problems then I care to explain if we were to deny him.” Fowler explains before Hank can complain, but the Lieutenant doesn't seem to accept this.

"So assign him to someone else! Anyone else! You know how much I hate-" Hank stops, glancing at Connor like an afterthought before lowering his voice like it's a secret. Connor is thoroughly unimpressed- He's already been called a leech, whatever reasons Hank elects to now briefly neglect slurs is unknown to Connor. "C'mon Jeffery, you  _know._ Why are you doin' this to me?" Hank exclaims, looking truly miserable to be stuck working with Connor. Jeffery begins to become agitated, his face hardening into a firm glare. 

"Hank, everyone else is loaded! Everyone  _else_ has partners except for you, and I'm not about to switch someone just because you're throwing a hissy fit! Accept it, or hand in your badge!" Jeffery demands, and Hank huffs, shaking his head and storming out of the office, stomping back to his desk. Connor expects some sort of introduction, maybe an apology on Hanks behalf, but the glare turns to Connor now. "Shut the door on your way out." He simply demands before turning back to his monitor. Connor, having just seen the man's wrath, doesn't argue and simply exits. He was in and out of that office in less than five minutes. He approaches Hank's desk again, unsure of what to say. 

"We're not friends," Hank finally huffs, apparently giving in to Captain Fowler's conditions. "We get this investigation over with as soon as possible so I never have to see your face again. Understood?"

Hank is rude, unprofessional, an angry man with a hate towards Connor's entire species. But Connor is as stuck with Hank as Hank is with Connor.

"Understood." He agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!! Sorry for the short delay, unfortunately, I was fresh outta wifi this weekend but I have returned! And with a fresh chapter too ;)  
> SOME CLARIFICATION- Conan is NOT RK900, he's the RK800 model you meet in cyberlife tower if you went the deviant Connor route. However, an au RK900 does exist and will show up later in the story. I feel a bit weird about this chapter like it could have been better, but whatever. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter anyway and I hope to update again soon! :) YOUR COMMENTS GIVE ME LIFE


	7. Bright Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is sent out on his first investigation with suspected vampire involvement.
> 
> Connor meets some new people.

Connor's desk is empty. He doesn't even have a nameplate yet. Hank continues scowling at his monitor, and Connor is beginning to think it's simply the man's default resting face.  Connor doesn't even bother in attempting conversation. Hank's made it clear they aren't friends, and Connor agrees. He isn't here to get cozy with humans- he's here to investigate. 

Connor logs in to 'his' monitor. He's not sure it's  _actually_ his, but the desk was empty and his log in worked, so at least for now Connor claims it. Inside, there are folders containing files upon files of homicides suspected of vampires. Most appear to be done out of hunger, not malice. Most likely a vampire deprived of blood or greedy and want it fresh from the source. Greed in hunger- it was one of the biggest reasons in the separations of the races, to stop the murder of humans. No humans allowed on the vampire side, and no vampires allowed on the human side. Those were the rules for regular citizens at least. Connor is now a residence here, unfortunately.

He looks through the murders, frowning at the more recent  _Emma Phillips._ Daniel is not listed- and neither are John and Caroline. There’s not even a missing person report. Amanda truly did erase their existence, and it makes Connor slightly uneasy to think about if he had fulfilled his mission in killing them there would be no one to question or mourn their deaths. He looks to the most recent, one white human male named Michael Graham strangled to death in an alley. He was found early this morning and suspected to have died late last night.  _Strangled._ Not bitten or bled to death, strangled. Yet another crime not of hunger. How strange, Connor thinks. There would be no suspicion of vampire involvement if not for the murdered vampire found in the dumpster of the alley. Maybe murder out of self-defense, with the vampire too far gone to save? Connor doesn't know, and he won't figure it out by sitting around  Against his better judgment, he relays this to Hank.

"A man was murdered late last night- maybe we should start there?" Connor offers, watching closely as Hank doesn't respond, not even a twitch in his expression to signal that the man might be listening. It makes Connor feel something akin to frustration- He didn't ask to be Hank's partner, Connor didn't  _seek Hank out_ to make him miserable. He has no opinion of the man- although Hank seems to have some  _very_ strong emotions towards Connor. For a brief moment, Connor wonders if Hank even remembers his name. Probably not. Connor supposes he should get used to being addressed as a _leech._ It's not true in the slightest- Connor isn't like the hunger-crazed deviants Hank might be familiar with, Connor has lived his life being trained to control himself. To control his expression, to control his pain, to control his aim, and most importantly to control his hunger. Connor controls every aspect of his being like he's supposed to. He is a creature of control. Now if only Connor could somehow convince Hank of that. 

Connor stands, eager to make Hank look at him for once. The man is adamant in keeping his attention away from Connor, and he can't  _stand_ it. How is Connor ever supposed to accomplish his mission if his partner refuses to assist him? Hank, seeing his movement, huffs, and turns in his chair, moving his face away from Connor once again. Connor leans in, attempting to meet those eyes full to the brim with hate. 

"I understand-" Connor doesn't get any further into that attempt at conversation before Hank is sitting up straighter, his eyebrows raised as he shakes his head.

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?" He quips, before slouching over away from Connor again. Connor's eyebrows raise in surprise. Apparently, the Lieutenant doesn't take kindly to attempts at empathy.

"I've been assigned this mission by my Queen, Lieutenant. I can't fail, and I don't intend to wait until you feel like working." Connor hisses, changing his approach and now Hank does look at him. For a moment all that's there is disbelief before the anger sets in and the world spins. Connor finds himself pressed against the wall, Hank's fists wrapped tight in the fabric of his jacket. Connor had made a promise to himself- he'd acknowledged his weakness, and had been determined to not feel any longer but... With Hank pinning him to the wall, angry and unpredictable, Connor's stomach twists in something he can only describe as  _fear._

 _Don't hurt me,_ That fear begs inside of him as he stares down into blue eyes. Connor realizes now. He can't shut out the fear. He was foolish to think he could.

"Listen asshole," Hank growls out. "If it was up to me the whole lot of you should have  _stayed dead,_ so stop  _pissing me off!_ _"_ It's a threat. Connor seems to get a lot of those lately. Connor finds himself nodding, his eyes wide and his chest loosening as Hank lets his jacket go. Connor can't keep away the fear or his love for Amanda- But they won't affect him. They won't affect the mission. No one has to know. Connor isn't a deviant.

"We should head to the scene." Connor murmurs, quiet and less confident then he would like to appear. For a long moment, Hank stares at him, his face confused for reasons Connor can't understand. Hank seems amused somehow, but says nothing and simply shakes his head instead, turning away and pulling on his coat. He begins to make his way out of the precinct but turns to raise a brow at Connor instead when he doesn't follow immediately.

"You comin'?" He asks, and Connor nods quickly, his brain rattling in his skull from the force of it. He hurries along, straightening his jacket.

"Of course, Lieutenant." If all Connor has to do to get the man to work is piss him off- well, Connor didn't think it would be that easy, is all.

 

* * *

 

The car- Hank’s personal vehicle and not a patrol car, much to Connor’s surprise and displeasure- pulls up along the curb, stopping at the sight of police tape and officers flocking the crime scene. Hank had insisted on driving, assuming as though Connor would have objections or prefer to drive himself. Connor had none, he’s used to being driven, and Hank had seemed almost surprised before then growing into a slightly better mood when not argued with for once.

The crime scene is crowded, full to the brim with officers and forensic teams. Hank sighs, seeming unmotivated to join the bustle, and Connor swoops himself out of the car first with no qualms about the crowd. Reporters line the street, confused as to why they’re being blocked and wanting answers. Connor doesn’t really understand why they’re here- murders happen every day. Maybe it’s the vampire involvement that’s caught their eye. 

A dark-skinned man frowns at Connor as he approaches, and widens his eyes when Connor moves to walk right under the bright yellow tape. The officer grabs Connor’s shoulders, pushing him back with a look of shock on his face.

”What do you think you’re doing?” He demands but doesn’t sound as angry as he is shocked. “You can’t-“ Connor’s eyes dart to the officer's name tag, **C. MILLER**  showcased there in all capitals. Connor smiles in response and cuts off Officer Miller’s ramblings.

”Officer Miller, my name is Connor. I was sent by Queen Amanda, and I fully intend to investigate any and all cases with suspected vampire involvement. If you don’t believe me, you can check the seal on my jacket, or, you can ask my assigned partner Lieutenant Anderson who I’m sure would be more than happy to confirm my identity.” Okay, that’s a lie. Hank would never be happy to do anything for Connor. Officer Miller’s eyes widen, darting down to see that yes, there is a blue rose there after all, the symbol of the one and only vampire monarch. 

The officer stumbles, moving aside and even lifting the tape for Connor, who walks under in pleasant surprise. Connor thinks he likes this human- after all, it’s not often things are done for Connor, intimidation factor or not. 

“You can call me Chris. I’m sorry about thinking you were the press- wait did you say your partner is Hank?” Chris cuts himself off in the middle of his introduction as though the thought has only just now struck him, and his features slacken in shock. Connor raises a brow. Apparently, Hank isn’t a fowl character to just vampires, humans too.

”Yes, we are assigned partners, why?” Connor asks, more curious about the hard-boiled police Lieutenant than he would like to admit.

Chris peeks over Connor’s shoulder, and Connor is sure that Chris does indeed spot Hank sitting unhappily in his car because the man smiles a bit more. It’s quite far from the reaction Connor would have expected. Maybe Connor was wrong and humans and Hank get along just fine. He doesn’t know- they’re all unpredictable.

Hank's shoes crunch on the gravel noisily- the equivalent of a child stomping their feet into school. Chris smiles at Hank as he approaches, and Connor steps out of the way to observe the interaction, not getting an answer to his question from Chris. Hank doesn't smile back, but he seems to be in a bit of a better mood upon seeing the other man. 

"Alright," Hank sighs, seemingly surrendering to the terrible fate of doing his job, "What do you have for me today, Chris?" He takes away a thin tablet from Officer Miller, looking over the information presented to him and swiping over some pictures. Chris sighs, and motions for Hank and Connor to follow him further into the crowded alley. A body lays slumped against the brick wall, eyes wide open and blotched red, his neck colored a deep purple from the bruises there. Connor steps forward quickly to inspect the human body, his curiosity taking hold of him. He looks over the corpse in interest, looking for the key differences between a human body, and a vampire's.

"You don't think..." Connor vaguely hears Chris mumble anxiously behind him as Connor examines the bruises to determine the hand shape of the murderer- and further, to form an educated guess on their gender. "You don't think he'll try to  _feed_ off him, do you?" How cruel to say- Connor isn't an animal, and he's not a  _vulture._ He would never attack a human in hunger and being reduced to the belief that he would feed off a corpse that would make Connor deadly ill because he's a mindless beast is an insensitive statement at best. 

"Oh shit," A new voice interrupts before Hank can answer Chris. There's a chuckle, and Connor looks over his shoulder just to get a glimpse of the man. This man isn't in uniform and looks on the younger side. His jaw is covered in stubble, and there's a scar over the bridge of his nose. He's not looking at Connor however and shoves Hank's shoulder a little roughly for what's supposed to be a friendly gesture. "Hank has a partner? Poor guy- being stuck with you. So? Who is it? Who's the unfortunate soul?" Feeling the conversation switch once again to the subject of himself, Connor turns away and examines the blue on the victim's hands. It almost looks like blood. Vampire blood. Signs of a struggle maybe? But there are no bite marks, so why would the vampire attack if not to feed-

Somewhere behind him, there's an exclamation of surprise and suddenly Connor is being yanked back and being held in a threatening position for the second time today. As quick as possible, he holds his hands up in surrender, expecting to come face to face with Hank for the second time today with the man enraged over something Connor doesn't understand, but instead, he's met with a nasty glare from the unnamed officer. The man scowls at him, pressing Connor's back into the brick wall. Chris makes a surprised noise over the scarred man's shoulder, his face drawn up in worry as he raises his hands in a gesture similar to Connor, but Chris looks like he might actually do something. 

"Is that true? You're one of those reanimated freaks? Who the  _fuck_ let you over on this side?!" The man demands, his grip growing even tighter. Whoever this officer is, he  _really_ hates Connor. Maybe more than Hank- which comes as a surprise. Hank sighs from beside a worried Chris, crossing his arms with the tablet under one of them.

"My name is Connor, I was sent here by Queen Amanda-" Connor is yanked forward suddenly, and thrust back again into the unforgiving brick. His head rocks off the wall and pain burns deep inside him, spreading like fire. The man looks even angrier than before at Connor's attempted explanation, growling in his face.

"Who said you could talk?" The man hisses. Connor can't help but think that this isn't allowed- This man legally can't do this to him, yet here he is, causing pain to Connor while everyone only watches. Something about it reminds Connor of the execution- apathetic faces watching like it means nothing at all to them. Humans and Vampires are more alike than either seem to think.

"Let him go, Reed. There's nothing you can do about it." He sighs, and somehow that only seems to make this Reed character angrier. 

"The hell there isn't! He's already dead, right? No harm, no foul." Reed grins like this is a great idea and Connor's stomach coils. He wants to grab Reed's wrists and spin him around, bashing his head into the wall until there are no more thoughts left about hurting Connor, but Connor doubts that would be viewed well by Fowler, and his partner, Hank. 

"They'll just replace him. Let him go, there's no point." Hank sighs again, seeming uncaring that Connor could very well get his skull smashed in. Reed scowls, starring Connor down, daring him to say something wrong. Finally, Reed releases him, but not before spitting in Connor's face. Reed shakes his head when Connor doesn't move and stomps away in apparent disgust. Connor straightens his jacket, moving away from the wall and wiping the spit from his cheek. He reaches back hesitant fingers to brush over his scalp, relieved when they don't return stained blue. 

Chris looks Connor over worriedly like the vampire might suddenly snap and tear all of their throats out. Connor hates to disappoint. 

"I believe the murderer was a woman- most likely a vampire." He says instead, trying to move on as fast as possible. Hank raises his eyebrows at this, nodding his head like he agrees though he hasn't even looked at the body yet.

"What makes you say that, Sherlock?" He asks, and Connor frowns at the doubt put into his abilities.

"The bruises on the victim's neck- the handprints suggest the murderer was a woman. The victim has vampire blood on his hands, though no bite mark. The murder wasn't done by a hungry vampire simply in search of food." Connor explains, and now Hank seems more serious when he agrees.

"Right, so self-defense then. The vampire was probably injured." The Lieutenant suggests, but Connor shakes his head. Hank seems surprised, and maybe a little defensive. "Oh, you think something  _else_ happened here?" He bites out, but Connor doesn't feel any sting. 

"What do you mean self-defense?" Connor asks, and Hank raises his eyebrows, hostility gone from his expression and amusement taking over.

"I thought you were sent by the Queen herself- I thought you'd at least know what self-defense is, Mr. High-And-Mighty." He chuckles, shaking his head, when Connor doesn't laugh with him Hank seems to understand it's a genuine question. "What? Surely you must have self-defense procedures on your side too? You must have dealt with it before in some deviants?" Hank asks. Connor wants to tell him the truth.  _No. There is no self-defense among vampires. If you are told to die you do so without question, and if you are told to kill, you kill._ Instead, Connor nods, pretending like he knew that.

"If the deviant was injured during the struggle, they probably wouldn't have gotten far," Connor suggests, watching Hank nod in agreement. The alley has begun to clear out, leaving only Hank and Connor left to inspect the body and come to some conclusion about the murderer. Connor takes special care in looking over the ground, searching for any traces of blue. Eventually, at the other end of the alley, Connor finally spots a trail. There's a puddle beside a dumpster, hand smears trailing down the side of it. Connor turns his head, spotting Hank at the other end smiling and talking with Chris, discussing something Connor can't hear. Slowly Connor opens the dumpster lid, and two pairs of brown eyes stare at his face, desperate and afraid. It's two women, huddled together close on the mounds of trash bags. All around them, the dumpster is tinted blue, matching the color of one woman's hair, while the other is cut short, a bright reddish brown. The blue haired woman is the injured one, her shirt ripped open and her hand clutching her side desperately, while the brown-haired woman's eyes shine with unshed tears.

"I didn't mean to kill him," Blue finally says, her voice strained with pain and wrought with fear as Connor stares at her. "He saw us on the street- we ran away, to be together, to  _love_ one another and- he knew, somehow, what we were... He wanted... He was going to hurt us! Use us!  _Sell us like merchandise on the black market..._ I couldn't let him. I wanted to  _live,_ with her. I just wanted her to hold me in her arms again..." Blue's hold tightens around Brown, as they press closer together. "He was going to rape her, and I couldn't let him. So I put my hands around his throat and I  _squeezed_ until he stopped breathing." Her admittance is quiet, whispered to that no one can overhear, like telling Connor a secret. Connor looks between them, and finally, he meets their vibrant eyes with his own. 

 _Deviants._ His mind says.  _Eliminate them and fulfill the mission._ Logic dictates. But a smaller part of Connor- significantly smaller, maybe his conscience- begs him to let him go. Tells him that Blue was only protecting herself and her lover.  _Let them go._

_Keep those eyes alive._

All is silent but the heavy breathing from the dumpster, thick with the fear and anticipation of Connor's decision. 

Connor peels off his jacket, handing it to the Blue woman, but the brown haired one grabs it instead with a look of confusion.

"To cover the blood," Connor explains simply. "If anyone asks, show them the seal and say Queen Amanda sent you. Humans won't ask many questions after that." There's silence, then the brown-haired woman starts crying- fat heavy tears of such  _relief_ that it makes Connor sick to consider the possibility of calling out to Hank. 

"Thank you," She whispers, her whole body trembling as she releases the fear she must have been holding onto. " _Thank you,"_  

Connor is making another mistake. He knows this, he's more than aware of it. But no one knows these women are here. They aren't going to hurt anyone  ~~else.~~ Amanda will never have to find out, and that's enough to keep him satisfied. 

"Connor!" Hank barks at the end of the alley. "Are you coming or what?" Connor smiles at the girls- it's strange on his face, unfamiliar. It's sincere. He shuts the lid and turns away, walking forwards without a second of doubt.

"Coming, Lieutenant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again! I got a bit inspired and decided to update again!  
> Also yay! our first investigation! I know all these missions are out of order, (With Carlos' Android first then Daniel and so on) and don't follow the canon timeline, but don't worry about it! Eventually, all the deviants will make an appearance :)  
> I realize that in my last end note I didn't make it clear if Connor and au RK900 are related or not- They are! RK900 is Connor and Conan's older brother. And I will NOT say whether or not Conan has a redemption arc or not, or even if he's faking not caring about Connor or really just doesn't care- I SHALL GIVE AWAY NOTHING ABOUT THAT BOI... But I do have big plans for him ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed yet another chapter, I absolutely adore reading your comments and I hope to update again soon!


	8. Be Loyal or Be Free?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor talks with Hank civilly (will that last?)  
> Connor gets a letter.  
> Connor reports to Amanda.

As Connor steps out of the alley, Hank eyes him skeptically, blue eyes skimming Connor up and down in confusion and maybe a bit suspicious. Connor doesn't understand why, and then the wind nips at his arms through his dress shirt and he understands. Hank wants to know why Connor is missing his jacket, and the man questions such.

"Where'd your jacket go? I thought that was important or something?" Hank asks, and to his credit he is right. That jacket's seal was incredibly important to Connor's standing- it was treason to forge the emblem, and the seal got him anywhere he needed access with just a twitch of his fingers. But Connor can have it replaced as easy as he can throw it away.

"Officer Reed had unfortunately ripped it- the fabric had been under a bit too much strain today. Ultimately it would have been useless, and I deemed it unworthy to attempt recovering." Connor lies easily, and Hank scoffs, all questions seemingly blown far out of his mind at the mention of Reed's name. Funny, Connor thinks. He would have thought a police Lieutenant would have noticed the lack of rip in Connor's jacket when Reed released him- or maybe Hank just hates Officer Reed enough to overshadow that. 

"Fuck, don't call him  _Officer_ Reed- that little shit doesn't deserve the respect. Just- I don't know- Call him Reed. Or Gavin for all I care," Hank pauses, chuckling as he seems to think over the scenario of Connor addressing Officer Gavin Reed as just  _Gavin._ "On second thought, definitely call him Gavin. I'd love to see  _that_ play out." He gives out an undignified snort, shaking his head at something only he himself understands. Connor doesn't get the joke, but if Hank's happy all that means is the man isn't angry, and Connor is more than willing to snatch that opportunity to distract attention from his missing jacket. It will be difficult persuading humans of who he is without the seal until he's able to replace it, but Connor thinks it's a worthy sacrifice to make.

"You don't seem to like Offic-Gavin." Connor points out, correcting himself to address the man by his first name. At the sound, Hank grins like a devious child for a moment before the question begins to register and his joy begins to seep away. Hank sighs, pocketing his hands and beginning to walk back to his car with Connor following obediently behind. 

"You were able to figure that out, huh?" Hank asks, his voice sarcastic and a bit unimpressed. Connor smirks, feeling something akin to mirth slide to arise inside of him.

"It was an assumption." Connor quips, and Hank seems reasonably surprised. "You did call him a little shit and make a point to inform me to refer to him as another name because he doesn't deserve respect. Call it a hunch." This startles a burst of a laugh out of Hank, short and sweet and gone before Connor even can register what the sound was. Hank shakes his head and situates himself behind the wheel. Connor slides into the passenger side, smiling at Hank’s bemused look.

“Fuck,” the man chuckles, “I didn’t know you could  _curse._ ” He admits as he pulls away from the curb, looking to Connor for some sort of explanation on how-  _Yes, Connor can swear after all,_ and _Yes, It’s legally allowed._  

“Is it really a surprise to you?” Connor asks, half good-naturedly and half curiosity on the human perspective of them. Hank shrugs in response but nods genuinely.

”I mean, yeah. Why would a vampire curse, Yknow? You all are so high and mighty it just doesn’t seem that likely of a thing to come out of your mouth. It’s like hearing the Queen Of England say _fuck_ on national television- it’s not going to happen. What would a vampire have to curse about anyway?” Hank rattles off, and Connor shrugs. 

“Many things, I suppose.” Connor supplies, relieving a withering look from Hank that implies that the man doesn’t believe that in the slightest.

”Like what?” He challenges. Connor raises his brows, thinking.

”For example, I’ve cursed when faced with unsatisfactory odds. Moments of high stress- these are all similar situations and causes as to why a human might curse, Lieutenant. Of course, I doubt Queen Amanda is going to be saying ‘ _fuck_ ’ anytime soon.” Connor can’t even imagine that- Amanda saying the f-word? Connor isn’t naive enough to believe she doesn’t know it, but Connor can not think up a single situation in which the woman would let the word escape her lips. Surprisingly, Hank finds this outrageously funny, almost swerving into the next lane as he laughs.

When he’s done laughing- and the car is steady in its own lane again- the conversation lulls and Connor stares at the Lieutenant curiously.

Eventually, Hank seems to get fed up with the patient staring burning into the side of his face as he drives, and heaves out a long sigh.

"Alright, I give," The man surrenders. "What the hell do you want now?" Connor almost smiles.

"You didn't tell me. Why you dislike Gavin." Connor explains, eager to learn more about his partner. Connor doesn't know why he's interested, so he tells himself it's to help the investigation flow better. it's a reasonable excuse, and so Connor accepts it. Hank sighs, shaking his head.

"I can't explain it to someone who doesn't feel emotion," His eyes flick over Connor like he's just now remembered the being next to him feels nothing, and Connor can practically see Hank building that wall between them just the slightest bit higher. "I don't know- maybe because he's so damn cocky all the time. Look, I can't tell you why I like or don't like people, I just do. What does it matter, anyway? It's not like you'd understand it no matter how I explained it. I mean- What about you? Do  _you_ like Detective Reed? He made a damn good impression on you I'm sure." Hank asks, turning the tables to Connor's own opinion and managing to be sarcastic still. Connor, to his surprise, has to think about his answer. 

Does he dislike Gavin? The detective has given him plenty of reason to in the short time Connor has known him. He'd pressed Connor against the wall and spit on him- that was surely enough to warrant hate. Oddly, Connor doesn't feel any hate for him though. There's no dislike, no disgust at the thought of seeing Gavin again, or even worry over the man's capability to hurt him- which, in a  _real_ fight, the detective would never be able to beat Connor and Connor  _knows it-_  Connor doesn't dislike Gavin Reed, and he doesn't fear him either. But Connor definitely doesn't like him.

Connor doesn't hate anyone, he realizes. Connor likes some people more than others, but he doesn't dislike any of them.

"I don't dislike him," Connor admits, and Hank looks wholly unsatisfied. "I don't dislike anyone. I like many people, though. Gavin just isn't one of them." Hank raises his eyebrows, looking like he’s truly interested in what Connor has to say. Connor can’t tell if Hank is mocking him or genuinely curious.

”Vampires can like things?” Hank asks, and Connor frowns. Well, Connor knows he likes things, and Connor knows he dislikes things. Connor dislikes fear, and guilt, and blood. Does Amanda like things? Dislike others? What about Chloe? Does she have opinions? Or Connor’s drivers for that matter? Connor doesn’t know. Connor shakes his head at Hank in a resounding no.

”I can’t speak for an entire race, Lieutenant. I can only offer you information about my own personal experience and explain it to you to the best of my abilities.” Connor can’t and won’t speak for Amanda, or Chloe, or any other vampire. Connor doesn’t even understand his own wants, he has no hope of even beginning to comprehend others’. Hank nods like he's accepting the answer, or maybe he just wants to stop talking about emotions. 

"So where am I dropping you off at?" Hank asks, and Connor raises his brows in surprise. 

"You're not going to search for the suspect first?" Connor asks despite knowing exactly where the girls are. Hank shrugs, glancing over at Connor before shaking his head.

"Nah. Not worth it. Probably long gone by now anyway, and besides, it was most likely self-defense. I'm not going to run after someone who's just trying to survive just because of some legality." Connor has never heard this mindset before. Certainly not among any vampires who do whatever they're told without questions. But Hank is  _choosing_ to let the case go, to leave it open and unsolved and he doesn't seem particularly bothered by it. Hank doesn't seem to feel as though he's failed. Is he choosing to let them go because he truly believes they shouldn't be brought in at all to face some form of legislation, or does he somehow know that self-defense or not, the vampire girls would be executed without any fair trial simply for being deviant? "So? Where should I be driving?" Hank asks again, and Connor has to blink a few times before he can remember his address.

"Oh. I have an apartment up north. I could take a bus-" Connor offers, but Hank shakes his head quickly.

"No, we're already here, I can just drive you," Hank says, and Connor stares at the human for a long moment before nodding, giving in to the odd demand. It's not something unusual, Connor is driven everywhere all the time by countless different people- but Connor never sits in the passenger seat like he's equal, never been driven by a  _human._ They drive to Connor's apartment in silence the rest of the way there.

 

* * *

 

Connor makes his way up the stairs to his apartment- fully furnished and paid for by Amanda. Connor doesn't get paychecks. When he finds his door, unlocking it and moving to push it open, he notices the letter. A letter in Connor's mailbox, sticking out just slightly to gain his attention. It's strange- paper, smelling faintly of roses. Who writes letters anymore? And more importantly who knows his address to be able to send him strange letters? Connor accepts it, pulling it out of the box and taking it into his new home. He opens it, knowing he shouldn't, carefully ripping open the top and pulling out a piece of folded paper. On the top in neat cursive is Connor's name, and when he opens it the contents resemble a formal letter. No, not a letter asking how his day was or wishing him a happy birthday- it's an invitation.

 

_Dear Connor,_

_You are hereby formally invited to a dinner at Giovanni's today at 9 P.M._

_Dress formally._

_I_ _look forward to seeing you there._

_-Chloe_

 

Connor flips over the letter- there's no return address. There's no stamp either- whoever delivered this did so by hand, unofficially. It's disconcerting to think that Chloe found him so easily, in such a short span of time. Connor checks the watch on his wrist and frowns. It's only 1 o'clock now. Connor has just about eight hours to burn, not counting the time the trip might take. He has time to burn. He supposes it's enough time to report to Amanda. Connor folds the invitation into his pocket and turns on the TV. Human news fills the screen, but Connor ends that with just his voice.

"TV, Call Amanda." He orders, and the screen blips for a long moment, no doubt someone putting him on hold at the palace. Connor contemplates sitting on his new couch but deems it more respectful to stand when speaking to Amanda. Or preparing to, anyway. The TV fills with an image, and suddenly Amanda herself fills the screen. She's not in her garden- not that Connor expected her to be- and instead sits in her office, her hands folded neatly across her desk. She smiles at Connor when he appears.

"Connor," She says softly. "Any news?" She asks, and Connor only shakes his head slightly. 

"Not much," He admits. "There aren't any leads so far to this organization." Besides Chloe of course. Amanda's softness fades away into a frown, shaking her head solemnly. 

"These are dangerous waters, Connor. Every day these terrorists walk free is another day they grow stronger. We're no closer than when we started." Amanda sighs, shaking her head. “You were assigned a case today, Connor. Tell me about it.” Amanda says, softening her voice in hopes of good news of an exterminated deviant- or two. Connor hates to disappoint her. Maybe... he doesn’t have to. 

The idea is quick- dashing across his mind so fast adrenaline races through him, and if his heart worked it would be beating far too fast. It’s not a good idea, Connor knows this, but he’s been making wrong choices for the wrong reasons. He should be rebelling  _for_ Amanda, not against her. Lying to Amanda is against everything he stands for, but he supposes one more won’t hurt. In fact, this lie will make Amanda happy. She won’t worry so much, be less stressed. And that’s what Connor’s goal is truly, isn’t it?

”A deviant murdered a human man today. They suspected vampire involvement, so I was called to the scene with my assigned partner. A human there ripped my jacket- it will need to be replaced.” At least that isn’t a lie. “I found the deviant. I found her alone, and did so without any witnesses. However, after her execution I was forced to dispose of her body myself, to avoid human suspicion. I hope that’s alright, Amanda?” He asks, his throat tight and hands trembling from where he’s clasped them behind his back. He’s afraid- and he doesn’t know why. There’s a moment of silence, Amanda’s eyes looking him up and down, examining. 

“Yes,” She says finally. “It's fine. Don’t worry, a jacket will be delivered to you tomorrow. As for the deviant, good work Connor. We don’t need any humans getting ideas of war too- rebellion from the human species against vampires and our government would be disastrous- this was exemplary thinking on your part Connor.” She smiles suddenly, like she’s  _proud._ It makes Connor’s chest swell with pride, and he smiles back. He’s made her happy. It’s enough to almost forget that it’s a lie.

”Your assigned partner...” She begins, frowning at the very thought. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson, I’m told. What do you make of him?” Connor doesn’t know what she wants to hear, so he tells the truth.

”He seems to dislike vampires, but it’s a popular opinion among humans. I will try to establish a friendly relationship. He even participated in a civil discussion with me today, and I hope it’s a sign of further progress in our relationship.” Connor says, and he means it. Hank tolerated him on the ride back, and Connor figures that must be a good sign. Amanda shakes her head though, upset.

”The truth is we have no choice but to work with him. Don’t let him interfere with your investigation, Connor. Nothing is more important.” She orders, and Connor nods. He knows this, and she’s right. Nothing is more important than the mission, and nothing ever will be. 

Not his life, or anyone else’s.

“Of course, Amanda.” He says, bowing his head just slightly to acknowledge the command. _Stay distant from Lieutenant Anderson._

”Any deviants you find from now on dispose of yourself. Unofficially. No human will question a vampire corpse if they happen to see one.” She says, waving like it truly means nothing to her. “And find this rebellion. Put an end to it while there’s still time- and there’s little. Hurry, Connor.” Her smile is gone as she stares at him, and the screen goes dark. The call has ended, but Amanda’s overbearing weight of expectations lingers. Connor collapses on his couch, a hand on his head as he wheezes air he doesn’t need. 

What is he  _doing?_ Other than betraying his Queen every chance he gets? The letter burns in his pocket, and he feels sick. He doesn’t want to die. Deviants don’t want to die. He can’t kill them- but he can’t kill himself. He can’t betray deviants but he can’t betray Amanda. He’s stuck at a crossroads between two evils, and can’t tell which is worse.

Deviant- one, just one. Not two, not a pair of lovers, one. Another lie. How many lies will Connor tell before Amanda kills him?

No- She wouldn’t. Amanda wouldn’t kill him. Remove him from his position, from her court, yes. Imprison him, yes. But she wouldn’t ever _kill_ him. 

_Just remember, Connor_

There’s her voice again. Telling him he’s unloved, that the only woman to ever care for him is using him. Why did he save her?

He pulls out the letter, and it feels as though it burns his fingertips. He doesn’t understand why he does this to himself. Accepting an invitation from a traitor, a person actively committing treason against his Queen. 

Maybe because he feels- somewhere deep inside that he would never admit to- that Chloe might just be right. Connor stands from his couch, his apartment silent and invitation crumbled. 

He should find something nice to wear for tonight.

 

* * *

 

Connor watches the city pass by as the automated cab drives him further into the city. He’s used to the uncomfortable stiffness of a suit. He’s worn one almost every day of his life. He’s always had an image to uphold. First, it was Amanda’s as Queen, and the older he got the more his own reputation grew until it was time to protect his own image as the Upholder Of Justice. A stupid title, he thinks now. When he first received it, it had been a great honor. What’s changed?

Connor truly doesn’t know. 

The taxi stops outside a restaurant, and Connor is glad Chloe told him to dress nicely. Giovanni’s is impeccable, Connor can tell even from the cab.

He presses a finger against the touchscreen on his door to pay the fee, the cab beeping in delight with the transaction before he steps out. It’s raining again, he notes. Not wanting to get wet he hurries under the overhang, checking his watch for the time. 

“Don’t worry,” a voice greets behind him, smooth and delicate. He turns, and Chloe is there. Today her hair is in a braid, decorated with bright pearls, though she’s still dressed in blue and her eyes are as bright as ever. She smiles at Connor in the gentle way he’s come to associate with her, and there’s a dark umbrella above her head shielding her from the rain. “You’re not late. Right on time, in fact.” She steps under the overhang next to Connor, closing the umbrella and shaking it to rid it of water.

”Chloe,” Connor breathes, because he can’t do much else. Chloe smiles however, and nods. 

“I’m glad you remember me. I was a bit worried if I’m being honest. Seeing as no one is hunting me down, I thought you might have forgotten my name, but it seems you haven’t.” Her eyes glint as she says this, indulging in some sort of secret delight. 

Connor feels like scoffing at her. How on earth could he possibly forget the woman who hijacked his car to question his loyalty and inspire doubt in himself?

”You made quite the impression, Chloe.” He admits, before waving to the restaurant. “Do you mind telling me why I’ve been invited here? As you said, you should be being hunted for treason, among other things.” Chloe’s smile doesn't falter, and she seems unbothered by the accusation. 

”Yes of course. Let's discuss it over dinner, though. I have a reservation prepared for us.” She waves to the door, and Connor moves forward obediently to open it for her. She nods her gratitude and steps inside, leaving Connor to follow diligently. 

Chloe wraps her arm in Connor’s, a friendly gesture that takes Connor by surprise and leaves him unable to react properly. He allows her to lead him in front of an employee waiting to lead them to their table and check their reservation. 

The man smiles, and Connor finds him to be blindingly human. For a moment, he had forgotten which side he was on.

”Hello,” He greets pleasantly, ”Do you have a reservation?” He asks and Chloe smiles back at him with equal kindness. 

”Yes, of course. Party of two- it should be under the name _Kamski_.” Chloe says, successfully piquing Connor’s interest. The man nods, apparently finding the name on his list, and smiles at them again. 

”Let me lead you to your table.” He offers, grabbing two menu’s and walking off further into the restaurant without looking back once. Connor follows with Chloe on his arm, and inspects the restaurant with curiosity. It truly is a fine place, with hanging chandeliers and curtains that drape to the floor. In the corner of the room, there's a band playing real instruments, and classy music floats away from their fingertips. Everything here screams high society- and Connor is surprised Chloe is so at ease, meshing perfectly into every expectation these people could ever hope to have of her.

The man leads them to a modest table set in the middle of the room, placing their menu’s down neatly on the opposite sides just as Chloe lets go of his arm to approach her chair. This table is nearly in the center of the room, and Connor is certain it didn't come cheap.

”Is that your last name?” Connor asks once they've comfortably settled into their seats and the man has left them to browse. Chloe’s dark blue eyes snap to him, and Connor continues. ”Kamski?” Chloe relaxes slightly, and shakes her head.

”No, it's not.” Somehow Connor believes her, and nods. He supposes its too early to unveil the full mystery of Chloe anyway.

”How long have you had this reservation? Surely this sort of restaurant doesn't just hand out tables when you call?” Connor asks, folding a napkin on his lap though he has no intentions of eating. Chloe stares for a moment before smiling at him.

”You’re right,” She admits. ”My employer has had this reservation set for six months.” Connor’s head spins.

”Six months?” He gasps out in surprise. ”Why?” he continues with renewed suspicion. Chloe smiles at him, and doesn't seem to expect anything less than questions.

”This was planned, that's why. This dinner was planned long before you even knew who I was, or before you began having any doubts about your loyalties.” Chloe says, staring at him without any signs of shying away. She's confident, like she has all the answers Connor doesn't.

”I have no doubts of my loyalties,” Connor denies, quick and almost confident. Chloe patiently nods, like she's agreeing when she clearly doesn't. ”So why plan six months for a dinner?”

”To talk, of course. A war is coming, Connor. I don't pretend to be oblivious to that. But I know who's side I'm on. Who's side are you on, Connor?” Chloe asks, smooth like silk in every conversation she enters, knowing the answer to every question before it’s even asked. Connor shakes his head, finding this almost insulting.

”You are more than aware of who’s side I’m on, and who I serve.” Connor accuses through narrowed eyes, but Chloe smiles at him.

”Am I, Connor? What is your goal, in all of this? To only serve your Queen- or, do you work for the betterment of your people? Currently, her people?” Chloe asks, raising a finely trimmed brow in question. Connor shakes his head, confused.

”They’re the same thing- Queen Amanda works for the betterment of her subjects. What are you implying?” 

A waiter swings by suddenly, all smiles and good-natured questions. Chloe doesn't bother much conversation with him, and orders an expensive bottle of wine and a meal. Connor looks away, telling the waiter he won't be ordering. It's silent until the waiter returns, and Chloe seems reluctant to continue the conversation without a glass of wine in hand.

Finally, the waiter returns in the awkward air of silence. Whether he notices or not, he doesn't say, and simply deposits Chloe’s order.

Finally she shrugs, unbothered, and sips at her wine that's dark like blood. Connor knows it's not, he’d seen the waiter pour it straight from the bottle. She breaks the silence, continuing the conversation like there's never been a pause in it. 

”If it was between them, then. Say, Amanda has decided not only deviants should die, but all her subjects, innocent or not. Would you still stand by her? Follow her orders and kill every innocent she demands of you?” Chloe asks, and Connor wants to say yes. Conan would say yes without a doubt, but Connor isn't Conan, so he looks away instead.

”You already don't kill who she asks of you, Connor,” Chloe says, and Connor’s eyes snap up to meet hers fearfully. When he sees her face though, the hard lines that have been present the entire meal have softened, and she's gentle again, and her voice is soft and understanding when she continues. ”It’s alright, Connor. You've done the right thing. It's why you've been chosen.”

Connor’s throat burns with tears he refuses to shed.

”Chosen?” He asks instead, and Chloe nods kindly. 

”Yes, Connor. You’ve been chosen.” She leans back in her chair, looking Connor over like she's worried he might break out in tears or slam his head into the table.

”Chosen by who? Your employer?” he chokes out, venomous at the thought of Chloe being a hypocrite- being the same as him, nothing but a servant.

”No,” Chloe says, reaching out across the table quickly and engulfing his hand in hers, holding it tightly with as much comfort she can press into the flesh there. ”I did.” Connor’s eyes snap to her, shocked and maybe a bit disbelieving, but she only smiles empathetically, like she truly understands him, if that's possible.

”I told my employer of what I believe you can do, and he agreed. And he sent me out to get you- to show you what you can be doing for your people.” Chloe says, briefly tightening her hold on his hand. 

”Oh?” Connor says, unable to look her in the eye anymore. ”And what is it you think I can do?”

”You can save them, Connor.” Chloe's fingers release his hand, tapping the bottom of his chin and lifting his eyes to meet hers. ”Not just one or two, or a few lucky ones the humans don't find- but _all_ of them.” Connor wants to tell her that's impossible. Under Amanda’s rule, no deviant will ever be safe. But Chloe knows this, and she says that he can save them all anyway. Against his better judgment, he wants to know how. 

”That’s not possible,” He whispers even though the music covers his voice just fine on its own. ”I can’t betray Amanda, and even if I did- I... She would find out, and kill everyone. _Everyone_.” 

”And you still want to serve her?” Chloe asks, but seems to recoil when Connor is visibly hurt. ”I’m sorry. I understand. You think she's your mother.” 

Connor sighs and watches the steam rise from Chloe’s plate. 

”Are you going to tell me she's not?” 

”If I did all it would be is a half-truth. She is your mother- to you. But you're not her son, Connor. To her you're a tool. You come and go as easy as the sun, and by the end of the day I wonder if she would be able to pick you out of a crowd.” Connor takes a shaky breath, feeling his ribcage rattle with the force of the blow Chloe has put on his heart. He already knew this- why does hearing it out loud now hurt so much more? 

”Stop,” he begs, waving a hand. ”Why are you doing this? Why-” his voice trembles. ”Why would you say that?” To her credit, Chloe does look sorry.

”I don’t say it to be cruel, Connor. Cruelty is the last thing I would do to you, but it's time to open your eyes. You’re not a child anymore, Connor. Maybe you've never been, but now is not the time to be naive. You must understand what Amanda is doing to her people.” Chloe is passionate in her argument, but it's unneeded on Connor. He can see the life in her eyes, and that's enough. 

”I’m afraid.” He admits, and it’s like a dam has broken. All those insecurities, terrors and doubts of what might be around the corner suddenly slam full force into him. Something in Chloe softens, and her shoulders relax. 

”Do you truly want to serve someone who makes you afraid, Connor?” She prods, so gently Connor almost doesn't feel her trying to nudge him away from his loyalties. ”You’ll only end up hurt. Eventually, you will run your course of usefulness and what then?” Connor doesn't answer, but they both know. 

”I can’t.” He whispers, feeling as small and frail as a child. He's supposed to be stronger than this. ”I... I wouldn’t know where to start.” 

Connor expects Chloe to argue, but she doesn't, and perhaps sensing a lapse in conversation their waiter swoops in. He seems a bit miffed by Chloe’s untouched food, only calming when she requests a box for it to go. 

He dutifully scampers off to fetch one, and when he comes back he leaves the check. Before the thought can even cross Connor’s mind, Chloe has already pulled out cash to pay. It’s a startling amount too, and Connor can’t fight his shock. She smiles at him as she scoops her still warm food into the styrofoam box and clasps it shut with a squeak. 

”Would you escort me to the door?” She asks, and Connor nods with his mind still on the large amount of cash sitting innocently on the table.

Connor stands and allows Chloe to find her place at his side, guiding them away from their table and to the front doors on pure memory. They step outside, joined by the arm, and wait silently, watching the rain pelt the earth in the dark of night.

”You’ll join the rebellion, Connor,” Chloe says. It's not an order, but a faith. She has hope in him, and nothing seems able to change her mind.

”I can’t.” He reminds her, but she only hums like she doesn't believe it.

Eventually, a black car with tinted windows rolls up on the curb, and Chloe slips her arm away from Connor. Before she leaves, she hands Connor a small card. There's nothing on it except the word ”JERICHO” in fine print inside of what looks to be the outline of a freighter ship. When Connor tilts the card, the single word glimmers reflectivity in the low light. 

Chloe smiles at him with all the trust in the word, whispering ”Just in case.” before she's gone- maybe forever, leaving Connor alone in the rain with nothing but the word Jericho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OO I Finally hit that 20,000 word mark last chapter and I won't lie- I'm pretty happy about it. I'm sorry about the short delay, but I was working on that other oneshot I just posted so I put this on hold to write that but HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER! I had to write part of it on my phone, which is the literal bane of my existence, but I hope it turned out okay anyway. The more chapters I write of this the more I realize just how long this fanfic is going to be.
> 
> CHLOE IS BACK, MY FAVORITE GOLDEN GIRL! Not to say I don't also love Kara and Alice and North, because I definitely adore them too. (No redemption arc for Amanda WHOOPS)  
> Kamski's appearance draws nearer, and I won't lie, I'm looking forward to that almost as much as the Jericho Crew. And RK900. And Conan's return. And the Phillips. ANd-
> 
> I ADORE READING YOUR FEEDBACK!! thank you for reading and commenting and leaving all your wonderful Kudos! Until next time! :)


	9. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one is perfect, but Connor is supposed to be.

Jericho.

Connor hates how curious he really is. There's an almost infinite amount of possibilities of what it could be. A trap, for one. Chloe is kind, she squeezes Connor's hand when he's unsure and looks at him like she understands with such startling empathy it takes Connor's breath away. But she tells him Amanda doesn't love him. Connor knows this. He knows it better than anyone else could ever hope to know, and he doesn't need to be  _told._ He doesn't want to hear that she doesn't love him- if he hears it aloud it will become a reality. He's happy where he is. He's under Amanda's wing- she smiles at him and invites him to her garden and allows him to sit with her- isn't that enough?

No, he'll never hear her tell him in that soft tone,  _I love you, Connor._ He'll never feel her hand in his hair, or her arms around him, or any kiss from her lips. She will never show him any sense of maternal affection, but isn't this enough? She won't scorn him either- won't hit him or order his death or shun him away, labeling him as the traitor he is and telling him how  _disappointed_ she is in him. He's safe here, following her commands and being gifted with her smiles, even if they aren't genuine. 

Amanda loves things, Connor thinks. She loves her garden, and quiet. She loves  _control_ and perfection. She doesn't love Connor, he's none of those things. Amanda loves  _blood_ and  _carnage._ She loves the loyalty the threat of death inspires. She would so very  _lovingly_ sacrifice Connor for her perfection should she ever discover his betrayal. And isn't that his true fear? He can't join the deviants because he's afraid. He can't turn his back on the only woman he's ever allowed himself to view as a  _mother._

Connor is a coward. 

There is only one Jericho, and it's an abandoned freighter on the human side in a downtown area, nestled carefully between the ghosts of abandonment in the buildings all around it. It's a good hiding place for deviants on the run- or for a revolution. 

Connor thinks briefly of telling Amanda of Jericho. She would be delighted in him, proud. She would sing his praises and thank him for putting such an early end to the  _terrorist organization._ She would make martyrs of every deviant she could get her hands on, publicly executing them for an authority show or simply for her own pleasure. He would ensure her confidence in him again. 

But Chloe put her trust in him with this card- her  _faith._ To turn them in and betray her like this... Connor would be no better than Conan, bloodthirsty without morals, executing for the sport of it. This revolution has done nothing so far- no movements, no murders. The only vampire deaths to be found are on Amanda's hands by her own orders.  _Dangerous to our way of life_ perhaps she's blind to her own irony?

Perhaps, there's nothing even there. Maybe this is simply another test, bestowed by Chloe to check his moral compass.  _What will you do?_ He can imagine her asking, the words clear and saccharine sweet even in their imaginary form.  _Will you kill to please her, or kill to be free?_ Which is better? Both have outcomes of tears and death. No matter what path he chooses, or which road he walks, he will surely leave a trail of corpses behind him. 

But Connor likes to think of himself as reasonable, and so maybe he'll just have to visit Jericho himself. He needs to know- if anyone is even there, and if they are if they're... like him. 

_Lost._

 

* * *

 

It's beautiful, Connor notices. Maybe for the first time as he walks into the DPD. No one spares him a second glance as he slips past the reception and worms his way further into the bullpen. Connor's mind is brimming- reports and possible cases and leads that aren't part of the obvious  _Jericho_ card that's burning a hole in his pocket.  Desks buzz with activity, full of life and action. Officers take calls and address suspects, always vibrant, always  _alive._

"Oh, you're back." A voice greets, not unkindly. Connor turns and Officer Chris Miller stands there, looking mildly surprised but not upset at Connor's presence. "I thought your assignment was over?" He asks. Connor likes Chris. He's kind, and the only human that upon direct contact with hasn't shoved Connor into a wall and made death threats. Connor smiles at him.

"It's just been extended." He says, inclining his head slightly. Chris smiles, shaking his head sympathetically. 

"Hank's going to be  _overjoyed_ to hear that." The officer states sarcastically, looking ready to turn back to his work, but Connor stops him with a well-timed question. He likes Chris and Chris is the most likely person to give him answers.  Chris doesn't like him, he's sure, but at the very least Chris doesn't hate him simply for what he is despite his rather rude comment at the crime scene yesterday. 

"You surely know Lieutenant Anderson better than I- could you perhaps tell me, is there a particular reason he despises me?" Connor is surprised by how good-natured the heavy words sound rolling off his tongue, as though he might as well be discussing the weather. To his credit, Chris looks thoroughly shocked. 

"Oh no, I really don't think I should discuss Hank with you- I mean isn't that sort of like talking behind his back?" Chris shakes his head and a small part of Connor wants to say that what Hank doesn't know won't hurt him, but that sounds like a terribly childish argument even to himself. 

"I don't mean any harm by it, Officer Miller. I'm simply looking for insight on topics to avoid so that Hank and I may coexist more efficiently, or maybe I should simply say that I would like us to be on friendly terms." When Chris' shoulders relax, Connor knows he's said the right thing. 

"Well there's not much I can tell you while keeping my moral standpoint but..." Chris looks Connor up and down, maybe taking in the new jacket with the new seal. Hopefully, the old one is still being put to good use. "Hank just has personal issues. He needs someone to take it out on, and you seem to act as fuel to his flame. Stop asking him about his past and why he hates you- ask him about his dog, or... his music tastes. I heard he really likes that metal band Knights Of The Black Death or something. If you want to connect with him stop analyzing him." Connor can't help but stare, shocked. To the man's credit that was... good advice.  _Really_ good advice for a vampire clueless about how to navigate social interactions. He smiles at Chris, and his gratitude is real.

"Thank you, Officer Miller, that was very helpful." Chris looks sheepish but nods his head in acceptance anyway. 

"Yeah well... Don't be a stranger, Connor." He smiles and Connor smiles too. Maybe not everyone hates him.  _Maybe_ there's hope for him yet. 

"I won't." With a final nod to the man, Connor allows him to return to his work, approaching Hank's empty desk. The man isn't at his desk or lounging on someone else's. Connor thinks this is curious until he spots the breakroom and it hits him. Of course, where else would the Lieutenant be but the breakroom, collecting coffee he'll need in order to have the energy to deal with Connor? Connor turns and makes his way in a straight, confident line towards the break room, but when he enters it's noticeably empty of one Hank Anderson. 

" _Motherfucker,_ " A voice hisses behind him instead, and when Connor turns Officer Reed is there, glaring and full of hate. A woman stands next to him, leaning onto the table where two cups of coffee sit and looking reasonably confused. “What are you doing here?” Gavin asks, standing to approach Connor, every step making Connor more and more anxious of the man’s unpredictable violent tendencies towards him.

”I thought you knew. I’m here until I find the revolution and put a stop to it. It’s a matter of life or death for My Queen, and my people.” Could Connor call them his people really? They weren’t like him. Most were the perfect cookie-cutter shapes they were supposed to be. Connor used to be like that- not anymore. He’d started morphing out, mutating into something indistinguishable and messy. Gavin sneers, seemingly disgusted.

”And _I_ thought I made it clear that your parasite ass wasn’t welcome here! Go on, run back to your own side and your _Queen_ and get the fuck out of here.” Gavin says, saying Queen like it’s an insult. He’s insinuating that Connor is like a child- cowering at the first sign of danger and running home to his mother.

”I’m sorry Gavin, that’s not possible. I’ve been _assigned_ -“ Connor doesn’t realize what he’s done wrong until he’s kneeling on the floor in response to a punch to his gut. And still, Connor can do nothing but endure.

" _Detective_!" The man barks like a dog, practically foaming at the mouth as he leers above Connor. "My name is  _Detective Gavin Reed,_ you son of a bitch." Connor doubts it would be looked upon kindly should he tell Gavin to fuck off, by the Detective himself or any of his coworkers. Connor doesn’t give Gavin the satisfaction of looking at him and stares to the floor instead. A finger roughly shoves his head to the side, making Connor reflexively flinch away. If Gavin notices the micromovement of Connor's distaste he doesn't mention it. 

”Stay the fuck out of my way,” Gavin warns, marching out of the break room with the female officer following him silently. She doesn’t seem bothered by the scene, maybe being used to Gavin’s seemingly explosive temper. After all, this is Connor’s second physical altercation with the man and he’s only been aquatinted for a day. Connor agrees with the man- he thinks it’d be a good idea to avoid Detective Reed. It takes Connor a long moment to collect himself from the floor, but he does manage to do so and stands while straightening his tie. Memorized motions to Connor. Thoughtless and unintentional. 

Hank is still nowhere to be found, however, even as Connor approaches his own desk that's empty like a blank slate, a testament to the short span of time he will spend here. Amanda's goal, and therefore his, is to be as invisible and as forgettable as possible. He is just one face in the crowd. He would be nameless if it made the mission easier. Hank's desk- behind his hateful stickers, Connor hasn't forgotten them- there's a mess of stale food and old coffee, a Japanese Maple, and a framed photo of a team of cops with notes around their heads surrounding a younger looking Hank. It's such a stark contrast, reminding Connor again of how much of a person Hank really is. The human has a whole world of interests and personality completely contrast to the emptiness inside Connor. But Connor has likes, and that's a start, isn't it?

Without much thought Connor slides behind his own desk, logging into his terminal and reviewing the cases there. Out of them, there's a newer report just brought in today, and without much thought, Connor's interest has peaked. He reads over the details, and then Hank is in front of him with a less than impressed scowl.

"Oh Christ," He groans, annoyed without Connor having even said anything yet. "What are you doing back here?" 

"I've gotten a report of a suspected deviant. I can't go without you." Connor says instead of trying to explain his long-term place in this investigation, but in response, Hank only rolls his eyes.

"Spare me the shitty sentimentality and put on your big boy pants- you can handle it alone." Hank gripes and Connor is awakened to a whole new feeling. It's a bubbling in his stomach, and it makes his lips twitch against his will as Hank settles behind his own desk with a heavy sigh, not once looking over towards Connor to witness his amusement. 

"No, Lieutenant, I meant I'm legally obligated for you to accompany me." There's a long silence as Hank seems to be digesting the new information before he begins to feel the embarrassment of the situation. The man slowly flushes red, so red in fact that even his neck takes on a bit of the hue. 

"Oh," He mumbles weakly, coughing into a fist. Connor smiles, but the air grows tense between them and without much thought, Chris' advice begins to resurface in Connor's mind. 

"Do you have a dog?" Connor asks, hoping to clear the air. Hank looks over, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He stares at Connor for a long hard moment before something in his brow softens, and he seems to relent. Hank nods, not looking at Connor.

"Yeah, Sumo. I uh... I call him Sumo." Connor practically beams- this is the closest they've truly gotten to a friendly conversation, going as far as to share personal details, and this time not because Connor got his head shoved into a wall. 

"What sort of music do you like?" Connor asks, testing the fragile waters between them. Hank seems even more reluctant to answer this than the first and shuffles awkwardly in his seat.

"I've got a bit of a thing for Jazz- what's with all the personal questions?" He suddenly demands, miffed. Connor blinks in surprise, left reeling slightly. 

"Sorry Lieutenant, I was just trying to get to know you," Connor explains, maybe a bit weakly under Hank's scrutinizing glare as though he's punishing Connor for attempting to be friendly. 

"Well, spare me. We're not friends. You're a vampire, I'm a human. We're from two different worlds, literally. So just... stay on your side." Hearing this is... perhaps more hurtful than Connor would like to admit. Connor has never had a friendly relationship before, and here in the face of one, Hank is shoving him away. Maybe Connor is simply unlikeable?

"Okay, Lieutenant." Connor relents and doesn't say anything else regarding Hank's personal life. Hank nods like he's relieved, but without Connor talking it's quiet, and maybe hoping for no lingering awkwardness Hank speaks up. 

"What's this about a, uh, report?" He tries, avoiding Connor's eyes. Connor doesn't have it in him to be disappointed, and so he stands from his desk. He walks around, meeting Hank's surprised eyes for only a moment before he turns away.

"I'll explain it to you in the car." He says, marching out ahead of Hank with little regret. If Hank wants them to be distant, or just unfortunate partners from different worlds- one of which Hank hates with burning passion,- then that's what they'll be. It would be foolish to attempt anything else with someone who despises Connor's whole race. Nevermind that it stings.

Connor's emotions aren't important.

 

* * *

 

The elevator rickets to a stop and Connor finds himself relieved to step out of it. The machine's older, worn down state had inspired unease in Connor. A worry for his own wellbeing should it break down. Hank seems unbothered, however, and continues down the hall. 

"So what do we know about this guy?" Hank asks, looking at the worn dark wallpaper, and seeming to find it just as unsatisfactory as Connor does. 

"Not much," Connor admits, following after his partner. "Just that a neighbor reported that he heard strange noises coming from this floor. Nobody's supposed to be living here but the neighbor said he saw a man with blood packets in his pockets. Maybe no homicide, but still a suspected deserter." Connor says as he makes his way to the door of the supposedly empty apartment.

"Deserter?" Hank asks from beside him, an eyebrow raised in question. Connor pauses in raising his hand to knock to address the question.

"Yes. Any vampire fleeing from under Amanda's rule is viewed as treason. It's punishable by death." Connor explains, and Hank shifts uneasily against the wall next to him.

"Damn," He says, "Your Queen doesn't mess around, huh? Isn't that a little extreme?" Hank mumbles through narrowed eyes, but Connor doesn't argue.

"Yes," He says instead. "It is." Then promptly raises his hand to bang against the door in a knock. There's no answer though, and Hank shrugs as if to say  _maybe it really is empty._ Connor isn't as easily persuaded and bangs his fist against the door again, harder this time. "Anybody home? Open up, Detroit Police!" There's a loud crash, and Hank springs into action immediately. 

"Stay behind me," He demands, pulling his gun from his waist. Connor finds it odd Hank feels the need to take over, but falls behind easily enough.

"Got it," Connor says, watching in silence as Hank kicks the door in and looks around with his gun pulled high. Hank kicks in the door to the right, barely peeking inside and finding nothing of interest before pushing open the one on the left. Finally, he turns to the end of the hall, nodding to Connor once before kicking it in as well, only to be immedietly swarmed by frantic pidgeons. 

"What the  _fuck_ is this!" The man demands, pointing his gun into the empty room uselessly. "Jesus this place stinks," He groans, working his way through the crowd of pigeons. Connor follows, more or less amused, and looks around the apartment. Birds cover every inch of the floor, some even on the countertops and furniture. Hank makes his way into the bathroom at the same time as Connor approaches the fridge, opening it and not disappointed to find it full of blood bags. 

"Lieutenant," Connor calls, taking a step back as Hank enters the room. "You might want to see this." Hank rolls his eyes but obeys, striding over and reeling once he sees the inside of the disconnected fridge. Hank gags, his face twisting in disgust.

"Is that  _human_ blood?" Hank asks, for some reason seeming surprised. Connor only raises a brow and nods. 

"Yes of course. It confirms there's a deviant here. You seem surprised, though?" Hank shakes his head, looking between the packs and Connor and saying nothing. Connor more or less knows when to let it go, and so he turns away from the fridge. Connor approaches the shelves in the corner of the room, a single driver's license sitting on the edge. Connor picks it up to inspect it closer and finds it to be fake. The name on it reads Rupert Travis, however. Rupert had been attempting to blend in as a human, maybe even start a life appearing as one.

"The driver's license is fake." He intones to Hank, before pressing the card back down where he found it. 

"Cool," Hank says from across the room as he inspects the poster on the wall. "At least we didn't come for nothing." Connor nods in somewhat agreement, making his way into the bathroom. There's a knocked over stool, a bag of opened blood on the floor slowly gushing out. The smell makes Connor's stomach turn, and his fangs begin to emerge. He furrows his brow, his stomach twisting in a burning, aching- but familiar pain. He's so...  _hungry._ Amanda feeds, Her council feeds, her people all feed, but Connor? He's been denied the right, stripped of food lest it causes him  _distraction_ during his mission. He can't remember the last time he fed, and he is so hungry. Whatever pride Connor has keeps him from bending over to devour what's in front of him right off the dirty floor. His patience thins though, and so he forces himself to focus instead on the smell of blood and where it's vanished to. The deviant had been feeding when they'd knocked, and blood must still remain on him. 

Connor follows the scent, growing hungrier with every footstep until he can smell it clearly.  _Right above him. So close, so far._ Connor finds himself staring into a hole in the roof, narrowing his eyes as though the shadows hold some answer to the escaped deviant. To that heavenly familiar scent of blood. And suddenly out of the darkness springs Rupert- the name being taken from his fake I.D.- launching onto Connor in a tangle of limbs as they crash to the floor. Pidgeons spring to life from the movement, jumping into flight and being blocked by Hank, who raises his hands to wave them away with a curse of ' _goddamn f_ _ucking pidgeons!'._ Rupert is up first though, racing across the floor to the door and barely glancing behind him to Connor's startled form still sitting on the floor in a state of shock. He's out the door by the time Connor has stood, and Hank is quick to speak.

"What are you waiting for?" He demands, "Chase him!" He doesn't need to tell Connor twice, because he's already taken off down the entry hall, the momentum from his sudden sprint being so much that he knocks himself against the wall of the hallway outside the apartment just in time to see Rupert knocking over a metal rack on its side in hopes to stall Connor and making a run for the fire escape. Connor sprints after, planting his hands on the rack and vaulting himself over it with little to no effort. He's trained for this, been prepared for chases like this his entire life. 

He shoves the door open with a rough shove of his shoulder where its still swinging from Rupert's escape just seconds before. Sunlight envelops Connor's vision for a bright second before his eyes adjust, a flurry of pigeons flying away from the sudden movement. He chases Rupert to the edge of the roof where the vampire jumps with little hesitation from the space between the huge 'M' and 'O' signs that form a word when put together. Connor follows, his feet aching from the drop which he ignores in favor of running through the golden field. 

Rupert launches himself over covered hay bails, jumping to the ledge above with little more than a stumble. Connor follows, barely pressing his hands to the higher ledge to assist him on his way up before he's running again. A truck horn shouts, a wedge of hay making it the perfect stairway for Connor's advance. He takes advantage of it, jumping from one wedge to the next in his makeshift path and never once stumbling. He launches onto the truck, pulling himself over the hay and onto its top, jumping with both feet to the next ledge. He barely spots Rupert running away and shoving aside a worker or two to cut his way through a greenhouse. The workers leer after him in surprise, peering through the open doors.

Connor follows, barely slipping between them fluidly and being witness to Rupert pulling over  _another_ rack. Connor barely dodges a stunned worker staring at the rack, and is able to jump over it without even touching it. Rupert sprints to the end of the roof in front of him, jumping over without looking back. Connor follows and finds himself sliding down a plane of glass in Rupert's path, pressing a hand against the glass behind him and using the momentum to propel himself up and into the hole in the glass in front of him- the crash Rupert no doubt made in his similar path down.

Connor finds himself once again surrounded by greens, running his way through rows of produce and finding the end of the warehouse being shut with Rupert barely able to slide himself under in a fit of adrenaline. Connor turns his head and sprints out an adjacent door into a field of purple, watching Rupert run across the rail above being enough inspiration for him to turn and sprint through the rows under the path Rupert is on above him. There's a ramp laying down, and Connor runs up it with little thought as he allows it to lift him up and aid him in climbing up the side of the truck to the top. Rupert meets him there, launching himself over the edge again and leaving Connor little to do but follow.

He's sent sliding down more glass, and Connor's heart pounds as a train blows its horn below, rushing along the tracks. Rupert wastes no time in jumping on as Connor shifts his entire body to avoid falling into an open pane, and instead launches himself onto the moving train. Under his mask of adrenaline, the situation is beginning to take light and fear begins to rear its head. It's a shame Connor has no time to dwell on it as he begins running down the body of the train towards Rupert just as the vampire launches himself off and onto a ladder leading up to the next rooftop. Connor follows, his hands burning in pain on the rails as he jumps up after Rupert.

He comes face to face with rows of trees, and Connor does stumble as he works his way around them and being sprayed by the sprinklers, but by the end of the rows, he still catches the sight of Rupert jumping over onto the next roof. Connor follows Rupert through the solar panels and over the ledge into the greenhouse, jumping over the plants when Rupert does to avoid the racks blocking the aisles. Left, right, and over the edge to avoid the worker Rupert had knocked to the ground. Then there's a field of corn that grows over Connor's head, blocking him from his target until he hears Hank's voice ahead of him. 

"Stop right there!" The lieutenant demands faintly as Connor runs, the crunching of leaves loud in his own ears. He makes it out in time to see Rupert shove Hank over the edge of the roof, and Connor's heart lurches in fear. But Rupert is running the other way and Hank has an arm over the ledge, already beginning to lift himself back over and-

Connor sprints after Rupert. He launches over the edge of the roof and across rows of produce, jumping over them level by level and growing further away from Hank the farther he runs. Eventually, Rupert stands at the end of a roof, nowhere left to run. He's staring away into the distance at nothing, but when Connor approaches from behind he turns, looking desperate. It makes Connor hate himself. He inspires fear, and he hates it.

"I've done nothing wrong," Rupert says, afraid and cornered. Connor hates that he's right- Rupert hadn't even killed anyone in self-defense. He'd been hiding with birds, as fascinated with the world as Connor and had been outed by someone who happened to see the bag of donated blood in Rupert's pocket. He'd hidden his face under caps and made a home in a broken apartment that no human would ever want. "I just wanted to be free, You know what they'll do to me if you turn me in," Connor does know. He knows better than anyone. Connor opens his mouth, not knowing himself what he's going to say.

"I'm sorry," Connor wheezes, his hands shaking as he points to a wall lined with pipes, enough to climb up. "Just... go." Connor's life means little compared to these deviants. they're nothing like him. They're... expressive, full of life and personality. He's unable to snuff it out as Amanda and Conan can, and it's no one's fault but his own. "Go to Jericho." He mumbles, unsure in himself, but the way Rupert's eyes widen makes it clear that he understands. 

"You're Amanda's slave. We all are. I hope you find Jericho too." Rupert is genuine, and his meaning is clear.  _I hope you escape. I hope you make it. I hope you don't die._  But there's little time for heartfelt conversation. Instead, Rupert runs in a full sprint towards the wall of pipes, climbing and disappearing over the top with little effort. Connor stares after him even once the fellow vampire has made his escape and Hank's heavy footfalls approach from behind. Connor is ashamed by how easy it was to forget about the human entirely. 

"Fuck," Hank wheezes for a moment, hands on his knees and watching the empty air still thick with the adrenaline from Rupert's escape. Suddenly he turns, full of rage and betrayal and slaps Connor so hard that Connor's whole body yanks. He freezes, not bouncing back like he wants to. The burn of pain is bright and unexpected, hurting in a new way. "You... Fucker! You saw I was going to fall and you'd rather let me die than fail your fucking assignment! Left me dangling over a building to chase a perp you can't even catch, you bastard?"

"I... Had to make a choice. It seemed to me..." Connor's reply is weak, but he doesn't need to continue because Hank has more to say. Connor briefly wonders what Hank would have to say if Connor told him that he simply let Rupert go.

"What am I to you? I knew you people viewed us as something less but oh, this just tops the  _fucking cake!_ Congratulations, Connor, you lost him. I could have died!" Hank shakes his head like he's disappointed.  _You people_ repeats in Connor's head in startling clarity.

"You're all the same, aren't you?" Maybe that's a cruel throwback to Connor telling him he wouldn't speak for his race. Maybe that's Hank saying Connor doesn't need to, and that every vampire is cruel and emotionless and void of any and all empathy. No matter the implication, it hurts all the same. He's guilty and he can't face it, can't face the fact that no matter how much Connor talks to Hank about his dog it can't make the man forgive Connor for leaving him to dangle over the edge of the roof to chase someone he let go. 

Connor turns on his heel and walks away, not daring to look back at Hank’s angry face. What a disappointing report he’ll have to make to Amanda. What is he supposed to tell her with Hank a witness to his empty hands? Connor feels like his world is falling apart. After this who knows if Amanda will ever even trust him again? What if she loses her faith, Connor's usefulness run dry? He'll be a sacrifice to her _cause,_ no doubt. Brought down by the blade of his own brother with sadistic enjoyment in his gruesome death. 

The card burns in his pocket, and it's as close to a decision as Connor can come to.

He'll just look, just to see what they're like. He won't stay, he could never, but-

_I hope you find Jericho too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another 5,000 word chapter? Yep! This took a while because dang, chase scenes are hard to write- which I hope you didn't find boring- but it's finally here!  
> Okay so I was going to kill Rupert in my first draft of this chapter, but as I was reviewing the canon scene between him and Connor it hurt me watching their only interaction go so terribly so I had to intervene. but I'll have to compensate later with something equally horrible... I wonder what that could be? ;) Hank is still very mad tho, whoops.  
> SO I realize I haven't necessarily... made it clear they're vampires besides the split governments, so I've been toying with maybe including some more unnatural/magical aspects into the story. (Special abilities, mate bonds, etc.) But I guess it depends.  
> JERICHO IS IN THE NEXT CHAPTER HELL YEAH!!!  
> THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE, KUDOS, AND WONDERFUL COMMENTS!


	10. Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor follows Chloe's clue

It’s hard to ignore Hank’s eyes burning into his back as Connor practically runs away without a word. He doesn’t know why- he’s  _ashamed._ He let Rupert go anyway- what was the point in chasing him at all? Now, what could have been his only human ally- dare he say, friend? He daren't,- hates him. 

Connor can’t blame Hank for it, at the very least. Surrounded by so much death, who is Connor to judge the value of life? To leave Hank to spare a deviant? 

It makes his head hurt-  _this is why he shouldn’t ask questions._ He doesn’t enjoy what he does but questioning it has only caused him pain thus far. Freedom is a joke, Connor thinks. What would he do with himself without the guidance of a mission? 

He would wither away, depressingly. He’d watch as those around him flourish with life and identity, and he would remain blank and empty. He would stay a threat and a weapon.

But he would remain that way if he never asked questions, too. It’s inevitable really, and maybe what Connor deserves in some divine form of punishment.

Connor doesn’t know if he’s making the right choice when there’s so many of them, but he’s trying, and is that not enough?

Not for Amanda. 

Connor decides to stop thinking and hails a cab once he’s thoroughly made his escape from the roof, and his latest mistake.

* * *

It’s not that hard to find Jericho. It’s a hunk of rusted metal, creaking and groaning in the wind. It’s massive too, and Connor finds it a wonder that this deviant group- assuming they really are here,- have managed to hide quite literally in plain sight. 

He takes a moment to admire the freighter, intimidating in its fury for freedom and perhaps Jericho is a symbol for the very concept. 

Connor likes the thought of that, and he can understand why someone would pick this as the hub for a revolution, despite its worn down state. 

When Connor steps onto the bridge leading across onto Jericho’s main deck the metal creaks- screaming loudly in protest under his weight- and Connor barely has enough time to lurch backward before the bridge collapses, crashing loudly on the ground far below.

Connor leans over to look down at what could have very well been his death and finds a discomfort stemming in his stomach that makes him quickly look away, deciding to continue to try and find a way in.

He works his way up until he’s standing at the end of a beam, overlooking the water down below. Connor finds this ironic- a leap of faith. Faith in Jericho? Connor doesn’t know, but he supposes he doesn’t have anything to lose if he dies upon impact with the water. 

He steps off, arms folded tightly to his chest and back ramrod straight, bearing the fall as the wind whips his hair and screams past his ears. He keeps his mouth shut tight, and when he sees the dark expanse of water approaching he inhales a quick breath, knowing the impact will most likely knock it right out of him.

Freezing water envelops Connor whole, burning him to his core in its bitterness. He doesn’t open his eyes, and instead kicks his way to the surface blindly- or, in the direction that he hopes is the surface.

When his head breaks over the top of the water, only then does Connor open his eyes, slightly disturbed to find his surrounding area dark. He blinks, slowly circling in the water as it thrashes at him in ripples, angry for being disturbed from its calm. 

His leap of faith begins to not look like such a bad idea when Connor’s eyes find a ladder though, once bright orange but faded now with age, the paint chipping away no doubt by years of deviants pulling themselves up into their sanctuary. 

Connor feels a bit guilty taking their same path- seeking asylum when he is a source of great fear for them, he’s sure. Not for the first time, Connor is having second doubts. More than doubts- Connor fears what he might be walking into. His death, maybe? 

A leap of faith, truly. 

Its a relief to be free if the cold water, pulling himself up the ladder and facing the yellow door leading further into the freighter. Connor lets himself inside, and something in his stomach drops seeing the broken down interior. Beams and debris litter the floor, messy and covered in blankets of dust. It makes Connor sick to think deviants are this desperate in their escape, desperate enough to live and coexist in this... destruction.

Amanda is no mother to these people.

Connor makes his way through the dark halls, careful to step over the mess and attempting to pull open every door he sees and finding most of them locked. He steps into a wider hall, refusing to look too much into his surroundings.

Slowly- when Connor stops moving only,- he can hear the murmur Of faint voices from beneath his feet from somewhere lower in the ship. The realization comes with a feeling of something like annoyance- Connor is on the _wrong floor_. His next problem- finding a way into the hull where the heart of Jericho must reside. Connor furthers his way down the hall and through the dark maze of corridors stretching before him. Connor steps through puddles on the floor, crouching under collapsed walls until he stands in front of a final door. If this one is locked, or stuck. Connor will be cornered here until someone from below deck decides to renovate which, by the looks of it, won't be happening anytime soon.

Thankfully when Connor turns the knob the door creaks open with a scream of complaint, and Connor steps out of the hall, looking over the railing down below from his platform. Whatever was left of this half floor looks to have been destroyed, and so Connor turns his head, relieved to find a stairway leading down farther below into the belly of the beast. The murmuring of voices gets louder, not into a roar of overlapping voices, but enough to know Jericho isn't as full as Amanda or Connor had previously thought. These people aren't a war effort, they're... refugees, at best. When Connor steps off the stairs and into the hull, the conversations around don't die off like Connor had been expecting. It turns out that Connor isn't that extraordinary after all. 

For a moment Connor is relieved that no negative attention from the formerly chased deviants has been pinned on him-yet- but still, he feels as though he is simply inadequate, not worthy enough for a turn of the head to witness his entrance to a room. Connor is used to it, and he's used to being repressed, so this matters little to him. He doesn't know these deviants and for now, they don't care to know him. He should count his blessings where he can. Connor allows himself to examine the hub of Jericho, finding vampires huddled together in dark corners and talking to one another in hushed voices because they can do nothing else. A few poor souls huddle by fires in barrels, starring with empty hopeless eyes into the flames- perhaps it's the closest they'll get to seeing the sun. Connor approaches a woman hunched over into her own corner, her face hidden deeply in a blue sweater. When Connor approaches her she doesn't raise her head, perfectly content in ignoring his turmoil. 

"Do you know where I can find the leader here?" Connor asks, and now she does look up at him, confused. She has sad looking green eyes, worn down with worry, but now they stare into Connor with pure confusion. 

"You mean Markus?" She asks, voice soft and timid, as though afraid her statements might be proven wrong. Connor nods, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet, avoiding her eyes. 

"Yes, him. Do you know where I can find him?" Connor asks as the timid woman rakes her eyes over him like she's searching for something. It's not her eyes on him that makes Connor uncomfortable, no, instead it's what she's looking for. Whatever it is, she must not find it, because she answers his question with a different one.

"Are you new?" She begins to shy away from her corner in favor of examing Connor as though he's an interesting test subject. It's a gaze Connor is more than familiar with, and one that he hates wholeheartedly. Connor deigns to answer, but he feels as though he owes the deviants of Jericho. Connor hates feeling as though he is in debt, bowing his head to guilt, but yet he gives in anyway.

"Yes," Connor obliges. "I... really must speak with Markus, so if you know where he might be-" There's a beginning of a ramble starting, but the deviant seems to lose interest and turns back into her corner. 

"He's up there." She vaguely points to what resembles an office on the half floor above, with windows and what amazingly appears to be working lights. Connor nods his thanks, far too similar to a bow for Connor's own liking. He makes his way back up the rattling metal stairs and works his way around deviants who pay him little mind. As Connor approaches the office (surprisingly without a door,) voices leak into his ears from inside. It isn't Connor's fault- whoever is speaking is doing so angrily and loudly, too loudly to care much if what's being said is supposed to be a secret. 

"- _living like this, Markus! Our people are dying, and what are we doing? Hiding in the dark because we're scared of a woman with a garden."_ Whoever is speaking sounds like a woman, angry and confident. When Connor peaks his head to look at the speaker, he's met with the sight of a woman in a blue sweater- eerily similar to the one downstairs who had told Connor where to find Markus in the first place. This woman though is a harsh contrast to the shy woman. This one has her hair pulled high in a ponytail and fierce brown eyes. Her face is more slender too, attractive and alluring. Her eyebrows are set into a constant scowl, however, betraying that facade with the true nature of seriousness inside her. There are three other men in the room, two of them standing and one sitting. One of the standing men is tall, but not intimidating. In fact, this man is quite soft, with empathetic eyes and worry deep set in the way he holds his mouth. He's dark-skinned, with full lips and a wide nose, but he's just as attractive as the woman. The other standing man is blonde, with blue eyes and a slouch to him that screams of how tired he is, and how afraid.

Connor doesn't think much of the blonde man until his head lifts and Connor is allowed a better view of his face. Once the view is offered, however, Connor's stomach drops lower than he'd ever thought possible. The blonde man looks  _exactly like Daniel._ Like... a twin. A shiver rolls down Connor's spine hard and fast, thick with guilt and fear, and Connor quickly looks to the sitting man simply so he won't have to look at the Daniel lookalike anymore. The sitting man has a lighter skin tone than his tall friend, and Connor finds him startlingly attractive, if not weary looking. However, what really makes this man stand out are his _eyes_. One green, one blue. It's the truest mark of individuality Connor has ever seen on a vampire. 

Amanda would hate it. 

"It isn't my choice, North!" The odd-eyed man sighs towards the female, watching resigned as her face colors dark blue in anger. Before she can burst through, he continues. "We can't just... rise up against a tyrant and expect to win with no resources! She has the entire vampiric world in her palm, and if she crushed it her subjects would  _thank_ her. And you think we can just tell her we're taking over and she's going to step aside happily?" North seems to lose some of her anger, the blue in her cheeks fading slightly. 

"And when we do have the resources, Markus? Will you fight, or will you stick to this...  _suicidal_ ideal of pacifism that you've picked up from Josh?" She waves her hand vaguely towards the tall man, who has the dignity to look offended and ready to defend his morals, but Markus interrupts before he can start a fight. 

"It's my decision, North. And I trust you to have faith in me that  _whatever_ it is I do decide, that it is always for the  _benefit_ of our people." Markus says, his voice heavy with passion. North stares at him for a long moment before she nods with a sigh.

"I do, I'm sorry. I... worry." She stammers, and the blonde man steps up to stand beside her, but he doesn't reach out to comfort her physically.

"We all do, North. They're our people too, and we have a say in their future- but we can't squabble with ourselves. It won't solve any problems." He says gently, and suddenly- surprisingly for the first time,- Connor feels like he's invading on a private moment. He clears his throat and stands stock still in the doorway, back straight as a ruler. He does it unthinkingly- not considering that the pose might appear threatening. All the eyes of the room snap to him, shocked at first. Connor can see the surprise ebb away, replaced by suspicion. Connor can track the phases of realization in North's eyes, pinpointing the exact horrible moment where it clicks together for her. 

"You-!" She growls out, ripping away from the blonde's side as though he might attempt to hold her back as she storms towards Connor. "Deviant hunter!" She snarls, and Connor could dodge if he truly wanted to. In fact, he could kill everyone in this room- everyone in  _Jericho-_ if he truly desired to do so, but Connor doesn't. In fact, he loathes the very thought. So Connor allows North to wrap her arm around his throat, pulling him tight against her as though she's preparing to snap his neck. 

"How did you find us?" She yells, far too loudly considering Connor is pinned against her. His face remains blank, empty like an unmarked slate even as his stomach rolls with anxiety. Connor meets Markus' gaze, and once he's gotten ahold of those different colored eyes, Connor refuses to let them go. 

"The same as you. I was given the location." He says, voice sounding far calmer than he feels. This isn't how he imagined their first meeting to go. Surprisingly instead of loosening, North's grip tightens under his jaw. 

"Who?" She asks, her voice shaking. Suddenly Connor does regret coming here, and his eyebrows furrow for just a second. Just one, no longer. It's a crack in his mask- it's his  _hurt._ He's feared- he didn't ask to be. "Who did you torture to find us?" Suddenly it's not just her voice shaking, it's her hands too. "Who did you  _kill-_?" And that's enough, Connor decides. 

"I mean Jericho no harm. I came, to help. I've... been helping, as I can. Letting deviants go- helping them how I can. I thought... maybe I could do the same for Jericho, be useful somehow. If you don't want me here, I'll leave, and the Jericho location will remain between me and it's inhabitants. Or you could kill me now." Connor says, his voice only trembling slightly at the very end. He doesn't want to die.

"We can't kill him," Josh says suddenly, eyes wide in panic as though for the first time he's truly noticing the hold North has him in. "Markus, if he really is one of us- you  _can't_ kill him!" Josh, unknowing of who Connor is or his mistakes, vouching for Connor's life. Something in it strikes a cord in Connor, and he feels more thankful to Josh than words can express. North seems to feel differently, however, curling her lip and practically growling. 

"He's lying! He's Amanda's lapdog! He serves her and no one else! He'll kill all of us the first chance he gets! We need to kill him first." Wrong as she is, she's passionate in protecting her people. Connor can understand- if he was in her shoes, he'd kill him too. The blonde, who's name Connor still hasn't been given, looks increasingly uncomfortable. 

"We- Just... send him away. Tell him not to come back." He whispers, sounding scared as though Connor is a wild animal, ready to lash out at any moment. Josh turns his head towards the blonde in disbelief, his eyes wide. 

"What? Really Simon? He doesn't deserve to be here simply because of the things he's done in his past? Then who does belong here? Are we going to start rejecting deviants from Jericho, the  _sanctuary for deviants?_ Or are we just going to start killing them?" Josh's eyes flick to North at the end, accusatory and dark, judging her. North looks ready to explode.

"It's not that simple and you  _know_ it! He's the deviant hunter! He's killed our people! How do you know this isn't just another trap?" She growls, and Josh steps up to the challenge.

"And if it's not? Are you willing to kill someone potentially innocent on a hunch?"

" _Potentially_ Innocent!"

"That's not enough for you?"

"Enough!" Markus finally says, voice heavy with authority as he regards Connor. Connor wishes suddenly that he knew what the vampire was thinking. The eyes of the room turn to Markus, everyone tense, no one daring to blink. They're waiting for his decision, Connor realizes. They're waiting to kill Connor or spare him. Markus sighs, averting his eyes and looking truly worn down. Suddenly, the weakness is gone, and Connor sees the leader in Markus. "Bring Lucy up. She'll decide for us. North, you can let him go now."

Reluctantly North loosens her grip and steps away, looking fully dissatisfied as she observes Connor- still alive. Josh's shoulders relax, and he steps back at the same moment Simon decides it would be wiser to get as far as possible from Connor, and leaves to fetch whoever Lucy is.

"You're not out of the woods yet." North grumbles, her arms crossed under her breasts and her eyes narrowed on him dangerously. Connor appreciates the reminder- Connor doesn't appreciate the reminder. "Soon enough Lucy will tell me what I already know, and I'll be able to rip you apart." She hisses, low and quiet. Josh glares at her in rebuttal, even though Connor doesn't react outwardly to her threat.

"And when you're wrong, you'll have to apologize." Josh reminds, and it seems to be enough to set North off, with her turning to glare back at Josh. Before they can engage in another shouting match, Simon appears in the doorway, leading a dark-skinned woman by the arm into the room.

The first thing Connor notices about Lucy is her eyes- black like obsidian, and sparkling like the night. Her face is kind though and sets Connor at ease against his better judgment. She's thin, tall with dainty hands wrapped around Simon's arm. Her hair is thick, long cornrows running down her back elegantly. She smiles to the room, her eyes never really settling on anything in particular- not that Connor expected them to. Suddenly, without Simon's guidance at all, Lucy makes her way in a straight confident line towards Connor. She kneels, and Connor follows her to his knees, even if he's not sure why. She's... compelling. She extends her hands palms up, and wordlessly Connor presses his hands into hers. 

She inhales deeply, her brows furrowing deeply. It's more than odd- Connor has no  _idea_ what Lucy could possibly be doing. 

"Pain..." She murmurs, looking as though she's feeling it herself. From behind her, Connor vaguely sees North shuffle to stand up straighter. "So much pain. Pain from those you love, and once trusted. Old pain- new..." Lucy trails off, seeming in a search. "Doubts. Self-doubts. Denial. Fear. Fear... constantly, overwhelming. But you don't suffocate, you swim. Longing. Emptiness. Betrayal.  _Protector._ " Lucy rips her hands away, and for the first time, Connor notices his reflection in her inky orbs. She turns her head in Markus' direction- not exact of course, but close enough. "Do not let him go, keep him." Is all she says, and Markus seems to understand even as North's eyes widen in clear shock. Lucy stands, allowing a shocked looking Simon to guide her away. She says nothing more- it's as though she doesn't need to, despite Connor's own confusion. Markus smiles widely at him, motioning to a box sitting beside his own and offering it as a seat to Connor. Grateful his life is no longer in danger, Connor obliges. 

"You understand, we have to plan now," Markus says, and Connor nods, more apathetic than he would prefer to be. "You can't stay here with us." He says, and Connor's eyes snap towards Markus like a whip. The Deviant leader at least has the shame to look sheepish.

"Permanently, I mean. You're in too close of leagues with Amanda, it would be suspicious." Markus explains, and Connor hates that he understands. 

"Of course," He agrees because it's easier than needless arguing.

"You... You're serious, Markus?" North asks quietly, her eyes flicking between the two in clear suspicion. Markus nods and meets North's eyes confidently, not an ounce of doubt in him.

"You heard Lucy. I trust her gift." Markus says, and Josh nods in agreement, sitting down upon another box on the opposite side of Markus.

"What did she do?" Connor asks, finally having balked up the nerve for it and sheepish when all eyes turn to him. "Lucy, I mean." North curls her lip, looking ready to spit, but stops herself in just enough time for Josh to swoop in for a rescue. 

"She's one of the few gifted. Only deviants get gifts. They're like... well, they’re hard to explain I suppose. They’re abilities really- not everyone gets a gift, and as far as we know gifts only work on other vampires." Josh explains, and Connor's eyebrows raise.

"So what Lucy did?" He asks, shame crawling upwards into his throat at some of the ideas that come to mind of what Lucy's ability might be. Josh looks a bit sheepish but smiles anyway.

"She can look into people's souls, read them. Sometimes, she can tell where they'll go in life- what they're meant to be and their place in the world, all that. But for us, she's a pretty good deviant detector." Josh jokes, looking only slightly downtrodden when Connor doesn't laugh. "We can test you for a gift later." Josh assures, and Markus takes the lull in conversation for the opportunity it is.

"If you want to help Jericho- if you really mean it..." Markus starts, his voice surprisingly gentle, understanding even. "You'll have to stay close to Amanda. Remain in her good graces, and tell us her next move." Connor feels as though his brows might truly reach his hairline.

"You want me to be a spy for Jericho?" Connor asks, but surprisingly it's not as bad an idea as his voice betrays. Markus nods, looking a bit guilty.

"I'm sorry but... our people are desperate, and our window for movement is closing. We need you." Different colored eyes plead, desperate and begging without words. Connor feels a little foolish- If they'd blackmailed him into being their spy, Connor still would have done it happily. His duties for his regrets.

"What would I have to do?" Connor asks, and he notices North grin from the corner of his eye. Markus' shoulders slump, and he smiles a bit. 

"Keep doing what you were doing- working for her, serving her and collecting information. Not as hard as you're thinking it will be, we need any information we can get our hands on." When Connor nods his consent, only then does Markus continue. "The truth. of how you found Jericho. I want to know." He clarifies, and Connor is almost disappointed in the lack of faith put in him- or maybe no one was listening.

"I didn't lie. A fellow deviant told me where to go." Connor defends, surprised that it's true. Josh doesn't seem as put off as North, whose eyes narrow. Thankfully, she stays silent. 

"Someone here?" Markus questions, his brows furrowing in confusion, no doubt trying to work out who possibly could have told Connor already residing in Jericho.

"Her name was Chloe. She was blonde, and could talk circles around anyone." Connor explains. He'd hoped Chloe would be a gateway into Markus' trust, someone they already knew, someone already well admired. Not a ghost to all of Jericho. 

"Chloe?" Markus asks, clearly not recognizing the name. Connor's stomach slowly begins to drop as he realizes just how complicated this is about to become.

"You don't know her?" Connor can see the alarm rising on Markus' face, and his own stress begins to rise to match. "She's a vampire, she... she sent me here, she's employed by someone." Maybe he shouldn't have told Markus that because now the deviant leader is sitting ramrod straight.

"For what?" Markus demands quickly, and Connor shakes his head, feeling only slightly guilty for being as in the dark as the rest of them.

"I couldn't tell you. I've only met her a handful of times, all of which have been stressful and confusing. She finds me- I don't find her, and I don't know if I could even if I wanted to." Connor hates admitting it, especially to people keeping him around for his resourcefulness. 

"You're the deviant hunter, surely you have a knack for it?" North quips but is quickly silenced with a harsh look from Markus. Ignoring them both, Connor decides to continue as though he'd never been interrupted- he finds it easier that way to ignore the hurt.

"I can't tell you who she works for- I have no idea. But she saw something in me, and sent me here." Markus' brows soften, and he slumps in his chair. North mumbles something to herself, and it seems to be the tipping point for Markus.

"It's been a long day," He sighs a little too hard, and Connor finds himself tending to agree. "Get some rest, the world can wait till morning. We'll... We'll figure this out." he promises, and Connor hopes so.

Connor really hopes so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay! I had the WORST case of writer's block, and I wasn't sure how I even wanted to start this chapter, or where I wanted to go with it. However, I have prevailed, and here's the next chapter!  
> AHH, THERE WERE MORE COMMENTS THAN USUAL LAST CHAPTER AND I CAN"T STRESS HOW MUCH I LOVED IT!! I ADORE ALL YOUR FEEDBACK!  
> okay honestly I'm ashamed and I think the main area Jericho resides in is in the hull, but honestly, I don't know ships or Jericho well enough to be confident in that so if I'm wrong, sorry!  
> I hoped you liked this chapter, even though the end felt a bit mediocre/rushed to me...  
> THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR WONDERFUL KUDOS AND COMMENTS! Until next time :)


	11. It’s Time To Decide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could be worse than having to pick between two evils?

The morning approaches far too fast in Connor’s opinion. Jericho is cold- Though, Connor didn’t quite expect it to have heating- and surprisingly quiet. It puts Connor on edge, despite him being the threat here. Markus should be wary of him if anything, but Connor still finds himself compelled into worry. He’s on their home turf after all, and if the rest of Jericho is anything like North, Connor won’t last the day. 

Attempting rest proved fruitless, Connor hadn’t slept at all. Connor wasn’t even aware he could sleep, but deviants seem to find the human tradition pleasing. However every time Connor closed his eyes, he was forced into the image of North wrapped around him, all too ready to snap his neck, and he was more awake and alert than ever. 

The sun casts a golden glow across him- far more ethereal than Connor deserves, but beautiful all the same. Connor hadn’t noticed until now, but the world is... beautiful. Gorgeous even. Exquisite. Too much for Connor. He finds himself... undeserving of it. 

Maybe not though.

Just maybe, Connor can deserve it. Deserve freedom. But only through betraying Amanda.

He shouldn’t have qualms with it- he knows more than anyone it’s the right thing to do-, yet, he hesitates. He thinks of her disappointment in him. Her frown, as she watches the vampire she nurtured into a natural born killer turn against her. Would she be devastated? Devastated that is, for a woman who feels nothing? 

Connor stands, making his way off the deck and back down into the ship. He makes his way into the hull, watching the deviants around him mutter to one another- a few poorly attempting to clean what they can of the debris. As Connor approaches the office he last found Markus in, Simon steps in front of him, holding up a hand. Connor blinks in surprise, rearing back a bit and looking into hauntingly familiar blue eyes. Simon looks as tired as ever, clearly the cause not being physical. He's timid, not violent or supportive, but cautious.

"We're meeting up in the captain's cabin. I'll take you there." Simon offers and his voice sounds calm on the surface. To anyone else, they would assume as much, but Connor can see the tense muscles in the blonde's shoulders, set tight like an animal ready to run at any moment. It's a cruel perception, but not one Connor is unused to. As Connor is lead through Jericho behind a tense Simon it occurs to him that perhaps Simon isn't playing the part of a helpful guide, but instead as a supervisor over Connor.

Their hesitation is warranted, even if it does leave a sour taste in Connor's mouth. Simon leads Connor back up into the cool air of the morning sun, gesturing to the cabin and falling into step behind Connor. As Connor steps into the cabin, he finds North, Josh, and Markus all present. As Connor walks in, Markus straightens up from where he had been leaning against the dark control board.

"Good, you're here. We can get started now." Markus says, and to his credit, the man does look more rested than the night before. "I need intel on Amanda." There’s a desperate note to his voice, showing how much he truly does need it,  but he isn't demanding. Connor briefly lets his eyes drift over the other faces in the room before nodding.

"What is it you want to know?" Connor feels strangely shameful- like he’s betraying Amanda, even now. Markus sighs, crossing his arms.

"I need anything you can give me." He admits, maybe a tad bit reluctantly. Connor doesn't dare judge him- he can only imagine the pressure of running a revolution.

"I'm not her only tool," Connor admits, and every pair of eyes in the room sets on him in a somewhat haze of horror. "I have two brothers, both of whom work under Amanda. My twin, Conan, enjoys what he does, and he likes murdering for fun. It's why he's excelled in Amanda's court, he has no qualms about killing whoever she asks." Connor admits, and there's a collective frown spread around the room, small glances back and forth. Maybe they’re wondering if Connor is that way too.

"And your other brother?" Simon asks, his doubts apparently taking a backseat in order to get answers. Connor sighs, shaking his head.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since I was young. I have no idea what his function is for Amanda- I don't even know if he's still alive. I didn't know Conan was alive until he introduced himself as the executioner after a particularly brutal decapitation of one of Amanda's council members." Markus' face drops, and he frows deeply.

"She's killing deviants? How does she find out?" Josh asks in the scared silence of his peers. This news Connor dreads to give, but he does, his heart feeling heavy with agony.

"She doesn't. It doesn't truly matter to her- she would kill anyone for anything. She likes the show, the demonstration of power she holds. She likes the threat of her control hanging above her people's heads. She killed one of her own council, maybe because she had a hunch he was a deviant, or maybe because she simply wanted to remind them who was truly in charge, and that no ones death is out of her power." Connor explains, and North raises a hand to her head, hunching over and muttering a ferocious ' _shit!_ ' under her breath. 

"And how do we combat her? how do we- weaken that power?" Josh asks, looking a bit nervous now. Connor shrugs because he honestly hadn't ever thought of it.

"You'd have to eliminate her ties. her council, my brothers. Even then, she would catch on. No matter the path, war looms in the distance. If not against Amanda, then against humans." Connor mumbles, and Josh frowns, shaking his head.

"No- We can't just kill our own people, Markus. Fighting has never solved anything. We can't spill blood, no matter the color." Josh says, sounding close to begging as he regards Markus. North snaps her head up, glaring at Josh.

"Are you kidding? She kills for fun and sport without a second thought and you're telling us we  _shouldn't_ fight back? I'll tell you what we should do! We should take every gun we can get our hands on and bring the war to  _her_ before she even knows what's happening!"' North says, wild like fire in her anger. 

"Are you insane? She'll kill us! Hang us up on the streets like decorations-"

"And asking nicely will do the trick?  _Oh please miss Amanda, please give us freedom!_ She'd be more likely to hand over her crown before she gives in to the hopes and dreams of us deviants."

"We should just... stay here. In Jericho. She can't hurt us if she can't find us." Simon suggests a tremble in his voice against the rage of both North and Josh. Even Markus shakes his head at that.

"And what? Live in the dark? Forever? No, we just... We bide our time until we're strong enough to rise against her. Josh is right, we won't get anywhere by fighting violence with violence. We need allies." Markus says, and like the law, his word is final.

North frowns suddenly and crosses her arms.

"Which reminds me- this Chloe business. We need to find her before it's too late." She demands, and Josh sighs and shakes his head. Simon nods in agreement though and steps forward slightly.

"She's right, we need to find whoever Chloe is, and whoever she's working for. If she knows where Jericho is, who's to say Amanda doesn't know too?" Connor finds himself frowning, and speaks before he has the mind to stop himself.

"If she did, we'd all be dead by now, myself included." Connor informs, prompting North to scowl hotly at him.

"Real reassuring, thanks for that." She hisses, and Josh shakes his head at her again.

"Enough North, it's not Connor's fault. You heard Lucy, he's one of us. Now if only you could look at this with some perspective-"

" _perspective?_ " North nearly roars, "What perspective would that be Josh? because from where I'm standing, all I'm seeing is our people getting killed and us not being able to do a thing about it!" 

"We are doing something," Markus says, and the room quickly silences. His voice is calm, but not detached as Connor would expect. "We're here, right now, planning to rise against Amanda. Is that not enough for you?" He asks, and North frowns.

"When we find Chloe, maybe. We can't just let them go, not with so much at stake-" She begins, but Markus is already shaking his head.

"And I can't concern myself with one woman, North. Especially if she means us no harm."

"Markus, you don't know that-"

"We're still here, aren't we?" Markus says, but North only bristles. 

"Barely! By sheer luck Connor happens to be deviant, but what about the next person she decides to hand out our address to?" She asks, a hiss in her voice that even Connor is surprised by.

"I  _can't_ pursue it, North! Our number one priority is keeping our people fed, and weakening Amanda's government. When we have a hold on our stance, then and only then will we worry about mysterious women." Markus snaps, but not unkindly. "We have Jericho to worry about." North softens, but only slightly.

"And you think this isn't about Jericho? I want to keep our people  _safe-_ " She says, but Markus has already beaten her to the conclusion.

"She's not a threat at the moment, North. In fact, I doubt she ever will be." Connor shifts restlessly on his feet, watching as Simon ducks his head to Markus' judgment. 

"I have to leave soon," Connor says to break the tension in the air, and at least it's true. "I'm expected back at the DPD by at least 10 A.M. every day from Monday to Friday respectively. Unless there's a sudden murder, and I'll be called in." North raises a brow at him now, almost like a challenge.

"You still expect to work there? Hunting us?" She asks, and even Simon gives her an exasperated look.

"How else do you expect me to collect information?" Connor asks, even as he feels himself tense under her glare. Eventually, she gives in, and her shoulders relax.

"Plenty of downtime to collect information," North notes, earning herself a slightly annoyed look from Markus. The leader sighs, turning to Connor.

"Learn what you can, but don't put yourself at risk to do it. North, I want you to collect guns." Every head whips in Markus' direction, surprise clear in everyone except North, who’s face pulls into a wide grin. So wide, in fact, Connor worries she might pull a muscle.

"What? But Markus-" Josh objects, and Markus shakes his head, apparently not wanting to hear it.

"I'm not saying we use them, but we need them, worst case scenario. Josh, I want you looking for deviants. And Simon- I want you working on clearing out what you can, trying to fix up more than just the hull." He orders, and with a smirk North is already gone, a skip in her step. Josh follows maybe just a bit dejected with Simon not far behind. 

When it's only the two of them left, Connor steps forward- maybe feeling some sort of obligation, or a need to explain himself. 

"It's my fault," He finds himself whispering, and some part of him wants to recoil into horror back into the apathetic shell of his personality. He doesn't allow himself the privilege and continues. "That so many deviants died... their blood is on my hands. I was  _stupid,_ I should have guessed Amanda was just using me. I'm sorry, Markus." Connor steps closer, finding enough courage to look Markus in the eye, even under the weight of his shame. "I can understand if you decide not to trust me." Connor ducks his head, but before he can leave to burrow himself in shame, Markus sets his hand on his shoulder and stops Connor and making the now ex-hunter turn to face the odd-eyed leader. Markus' face is surprisingly soft and understanding. 

"You're one of us now." He promises, and Connor feels something inside his heart jump. "Your place is with your people, even if you can't be here now." Markus nods and pats Connor's shoulder one last time before turning away. Connor can see now what makes Markus such a compelling leader. When he says he understands you, and that you're welcome, Connor truly feels as though he is. Quickly before he can embarrass himself further, Connor turns and leaves the cabin. When he makes his way back into the hull, turning to leave for the DPD, North stops him.

"You know, I asked around- tried to make people realize how risky it is to keep you here, and to my surprise- do you want to know what I was told?" She asks, and Connor doesn't, so he keeps staring at her in hopes she'll wise up and hopefully leave him alone. When she doesn't move, Connor steps around her, and seemingly in good graces, she doesn't immediately whip out her gun and shoot him. "I was told you were a  _good person_ -can you believe that?" No, Connor can't, but he does think this is a particularly cruel joke.

"I got a sob story about how you  _save_ deviants. So... I've decided to pursue a rare show of goodwill." North says, and though his interest perks he still doesn't turn to face her, and Connor chooses not to comment on the fact that North had attempted to have him ostracized from Jericho, finding it unsurprising. He could never expect them to welcome him with open arms, despite-  _you're one of us now_ \- what others might say. It's all tense silence for a moment, Connor not daring to meet North's eyes and North half a step behind talking to Connor's back. 

"You want my trust? You want to be one of us? Then prove it. I have a list,'" She begins to say, stopping to rummage in her pocket until she finds the said piece of paper. "It's a list of names. It's short, we don't have much intel right now, hence you, but... These are names of enemies of Jericho. Or, would be enemies, once we make our move against Amanda and start the revolt. Better to get them out of the way before that happens. They're anti-vampire humans, some politicians, and some vampires working under Amanda. Kill them." Connor snaps his eyes to her, even turning his body back around to face her, but her face is firm and fiery rage shines in her eyes.

"I know you can," She continues with barely a pause at Connor's expression, "You murdered your own- this will be easy. They're murdering our people, and despite what Markus says we can't all turn the other cheek- not to a gun. He won't know, not if you're inconspicuous enough. Plenty of people could have wanted the names on this list dead, it just would be you that got there first. I want to trust you, Connor." That makes Connor tear his eyes from the paper, looking at North and her surprisingly empathetic expression. "I do. Show me I can."

It's silent as he stares at the extended paper, considering. Connor wants to be liked- Connor wants to be  _trusted,_  and he  _burns_ to be loved.Though it's only when North begins to take back the paper that Connor accepts it, taking it from her quickly. Something in her shoulders relaxes, and she smiles, slow and tired. She claps him on the shoulder- a friendly pat, probably the friendliest he'll get from North,- before she nods at him in something like approval.

"Tell me when it's done. I'm looking forward to it." Connor nods to North's request and she's gone, confident as ever, standing straight and tall and demanding attention. Connor looks down at the list, reading the name at the very top.  _Peter Waters._ It's true, and Connor hates to admit it but North is right. They won't win a war by extending their necks. If this is Connor's piece, his way to ensure freedom, then he'll murder whoever he has to in order to fulfill his promise to his people. 

Connor has a new mission. 

Part of it is the same- killing comes as naturally as breathing to Connor, and he plans to uphold Jericho and it's trust, even if that means getting his hands dirty.

His hands were never clean in the first place.

Connor won't fail this mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter here, and it's mostly dialogue, but no doubt the next one will make up for it. I FINALLY have a vague plan of where I really want this story to go- and man, it is dark! Y’all have a roller coaster ahead of you, believe me. I'm honestly really hyped to write some badass Connor- these assassinations are gonna be awesome. I wonder what the repercussions could be?
> 
> I still haven’t decided if Connor should have a gift, considering the fact he’s constipated with his emotions, imagine how poorly he’d do with an explosive ability? Who knows. He’s dangerous with or without, no doubt that beautiful boy can murder when he wants to.
> 
> Unfortunately, we won’t see Chloe again for a while, but don’t worry! Now you have the Jericho Crew (+Lucy) to keep you occupied! Good trade-off? Who can tell? And I PROMISE North is going to get better. Honestly, she’s not a bad person (android? Vampire??) she’s just cautious and protective, and I can’t blame her. She will get nicer though!!
> 
> Our boi, goin through a bit of emotional repression here- a bit of a backtrack emotionally. But Connor has never been good at expressing himself, poor guy :(
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful comments and kudos! Your support means the world to me!!


	12. One Name Means Little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One name is crossed off.
> 
> Connor visits Amanda.

It's all too easy for Connor to falsify information. Create an identity, someone authorized on site- it's child play. Connor has a history in being in all the wrong places, posing as something he's not. He'd abandoned the Blue Rose of Amanda in favor of a sharp suit, something to make Connor seem like he belongs. There are plenty of men with brown hair and a similar build to Connor, many similar men that could have murdered Mr. Waters. Connor enters the building, tall and intended to be intimidating. The company building is quite chic, really, drenched in sharp angles and dark colors on some poor take of "modernization". On the wall, holographic screens play images of happy families laughing together above the company logo.

_Waters Inc.- Live your better life._ Connor reads the words with a scoff that's hard to mask. Peter Waters will be dead within the hour. Connor, despite his newfound affinity for asking questions, has barely an idea of why or how the CEO has landed himself on North's list. It doesn't matter much if the man is a threat. Connor strolls up to reception, no one giving him so much as a turn of the head, too caught up in their own tiny worlds. The secretary behind the desk smiles pleasantly to Connor, a smile he doesn't return. She's pretty, with neat brown hair pulled into a ponytail, and almost vacant-looking brown eyes. Connor can tell something is wrong with this woman, but not what. Something just slightly off, barely out of his notice.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Berg," Connor says as he slides a fake I.D. across the desk, his eyes never leaving the receptionist. She continues smiling, and in the false pleasantries, Connor notices something that suddenly catches his full attention. Just under the fold of her lips, barely peeking out is a fang. Connor couldn't mistake it for anything else- he would be a fool if he did. He almost didn't notice it at all, the fang being severely filed down, enough to try and pose as a normal human-canine. Connor's stomach suddenly turns.  _They filed her fangs._ Connor doesn't want to imagine how painful it must have been, with all the nerve endings in a single fang. The very thought disgusts him, and if he had anything in his stomach to throw up he would. Connor doesn't think vampires can vomit, but he would prefer it over this churning disgust inside him.

She doesn't seem in any agony however as she checks over Connor's identification, surprisingly not questioning his 'appointment'. It makes Connor's mind spin- has she simply been told to not question humans? To admit them and bend her neck in submission as though she is something lesser? It's a terrible corporate decision for security if so, despite the fact that Connor  _had_ set up a meeting with a man named Mr. Berg- though Connor has no intentions of showing up.  _Peter Waters is a threat to vampire kind, he has one of us in his lobby._  

"I've checked your I.D., the elevators are just down that hallway. I hope you have a pleasant day!" The vampire behind the counter recites, no doubt every word coming out of her mouth is most likely prescripted. She straightens, and her eyes lose their focus as she looks away from Connor and the apathy vampires are most known for returns. Connor is familiar with the look, but not here. He's seen it many times before in Amanda's court, but not on the human side, where vampires aren't even allowed. He's unsettled- disturbed even. Where did this vampire come from, if not a deviant? As far as Connor knows no human has stepped foot on vampire soil in a hundred years, but only deviants run away. Not a kidnapping, but not of her own will. Connor supposes the only one with answers is Peter himself, and the sooner the man is dead the better.

Connor makes his way down the hall, careful to keep his face away from anyone looking to be a real employee. It wouldn't bode well for anyone if Connor was spotted here, having no business with Peter and being the last one the man comes in contact with. Not only would it tarnish Amanda's trust, but it would put Jericho in jeopardy. Connor must be  _perfect_ in his mission. Luckily, Connor is trained for this, born and raised to spill blood. Connor might be concerned with the number of cameras able to spot him, but Connor had already looped the footage. It was easy to do so- he didn't even need to be in the building to loop it. Careless of the company, good for Connor. Maybe it should worry him, how good he is at these missions of his. He doesn't have the time to ponder it.

Connor presses his thumb against the call button for an elevator, waiting patiently for it to arrive. The door beeps, signaling the arrival of the lift, and Connor steps in without a worry despite the cold press of metal from a gun against his hip, tucked carefully into the waistband of his pants. Another thing they didn't care to check for- Connor didn't even see a metal detector. Either Mr. Waters is far too cocky in his lack of enemies or he's simply foolish beyond all measure.  _Or maybe he expects the vampires behind the reception counter to lunge at any threat with bared fangs like wild animals._ Connor curls his lip at the thought before he realizes better, and fixes his face as soon as he realizes the expression has made a home on his face. 

The elevator delivers Connor to his correct floor just as a security detail comes around the corner, Mr. Peter Waters behind them in their detail, unworried as he talks on his phone.  _That answers that question_ Connor supposes. Mr. Waters isn't concerned because he has his own  _miniature_ _army_ of bodyguards to surround him. But Connor can tell they're human- he can smell it, and Connor doubts that no matter what Peter Waters might be paying them, none of these stone-faced men are going to sacrifice their lives for his. Many people would be glad to see the man gone- it's simply Connor who's going to be pulling through on that desire. Mr. Waters seems to be agitated with his phone call, and Connor steps out of the elevator, looking  _just_ inconspicuous enough to blend in. 

"No, listen, Samantha, I have to be here. I have important work to be done, I can't just  _skip work_ to go to _birthing_ _classes!_ " Waters hisses, rubbing the bridge of his nose harshly in a way that looks more painful than relieving. 

_"And so what am I supposed to do? Go alone? Peter, you promised you'd come! All the other wives think I'm some sort of charity case- like you're not really my husband! it's only two hours, can't you take that much time off?"_ A female voice begs on the other line, sounding teary and almost heartbroken. Surprisingly Peter doesn't soften. He shakes his head, opening his mouth to firmly deny his teary wife but suddenly his eyes drift away, following something else as his attention is diverted. Connor follows the gaze and finds it pointed at a woman- a tall blonde, young and pretty. The blonde looks over, meeting Mr. Waters' eyes, and smiles, slow and knowingly. It's a seductive look, but a sweet one also- full of the thrill of an affair and inappropriate affection, and Peter visibly gulps upon seeing it. Connor's stomach twists- revolted at the absolutely shameless display. 

"No, Samantha, I can't. This job is what allows you to  _afford_ those classes, I-" Peter pauses as the blonde smiles at the CEO sweetly, perhaps equally oblivious as his wife and perhaps not. Peter smiles back to her like it's some sort of secret only the two of them know. Connor can see it plain as day. When the blonde woman slides through a door on the side of the hall, only then does Waters seem to come back to himself. At the very least, the man looks slightly ashamed. But only slightly, and there's no guilt in his eyes. It makes Connor all the sicker.

"I- Alright. I'll take next Wednesday off. Just for you." Peter promises as he bends under the weight of his shame, much to his oblivious pregnant wife's delight, who squeals happily over the phone. She quickly begins a rant of joyful statements, each one making Connor's gut twist tighter inside of him, and something akin to anger begins to boil. Peter has the audacity to smile softly like he truly loves the woman he's married and isn't infatuated with the pretty blonde woman. "Alright babe, I gotta go," Peter says, and one of his security detail snickers quietly. In lieu of defense, Peter simply ignores the scoff as though he hadn't heard it at all, entering his office. The guards, despite their snickering, line diligently in front of it, muttering to one another about the hot gossip that happens to be their bosses affair. 

"Poor Samantha," One of the guards remarks, and has enough sense to look genuinely sorry for the woman. "Is anyone ever going to tell her?" Another guard jerks his head towards the first, agitated and scoffing before the question is even finished.

"Only if you'd like to be out of a job. It's none of our business, just move on." The second advises, scowling and crossing his arms. The first shakes his head with a stubborn huff, however, not yet keen on giving up the topic of conversation.

"It doesn't bother you? That Emma's office has it's very own  _'secret'_ hallway into Mr. Waters' office so they can have an affair? It's unprofessional, not to mention-..." The guard continues, but Connor has already been gifted the only piece of information that matters to him. There's another way to Mr. Waters', through this secretaries office. Connor lets his eyes wander to the door the pretty blonde walked through, and the door is marked. It reads _OFFICE_ in the same way it’s marked on Mr. Waters door. With renewed confidence, Connor approaches the room, and when he steps inside the same blonde from a few minutes before looks up and smiles pleasantly- if not slightly confused. 

“Hello,” she greets, “Can I help you?” Connor looks around the office, almost ignoring her completely. To the side of the office, there’s a door, thick with precautions. If Connor isn’t mistaken there’s even a fingerprint scanner above a keypad, waiting eagerly for a password. Connor turns back to the woman and points to the door.

”Does that lead to Mr. Waters office?” He asks having little shame about being so blunt, and the secretary smiles like she’s used to the question. 

“Yes, but that’s for faculty members. If you have an appointment you need to use the other door.” She points to the door behind Connor as though that might direct him correctly. He doesn’t move and simply smiles at her.  _Faculty members,_ what a laugh.

”Could you show me the door?” He asks, and though the secretary looks mildly annoyed she stands after a moment and walks around her desk, walking towards the door in an effort to be as helpful as possible. Connor grabs her before she can make it there though. He whips the gun out from his waistband and nudges her face with it-maybe to make a point.

_I will shoot you_ , hangs unsaid in the air.

The secretary squeaks when Connor wraps a hand around her mouth, holding her tight against him to ensure she doesn't escape. She looks at him with wide terrified eyes, brimming with tears as she shakes. Connor presses the gun against her head smoothly, apathetic as he stares her down, the silencer attached to the barrel digging into her temple.

"Not a sound, you understand?" Connor warns quietly, voice flat and calm as he raises his brow at her in a silent warning. He presses the gun just a bit harder to her head and she nods quickly under Connor's palm. Connor doesn't release her, however, knowing hostages tend to enjoy screaming once offered the chance. "Open the door." He demands, gesturing to the locked entrance to Mr. Waters office with his gun. Connor is thankful for Mr. Waters neglecting to put cameras in this office nor his own- most likely because he likes bending said secretary over his desk at the most inappropriate of times. 

Connor guides her carefully to the door, watching her press her hand against the scanner and releases his hold around her mouth just as the buzzer goes off, and Mr. Waters voice floods through. Connor presses his gun to the back of her head, waiting.

"Yes?" Mr. Waters asks, sounding tired, maybe from giving in to his wife. "What is it, Emma?" The woman quivers in Connor's arms, but a firm squeeze of his hold around her has her replying before the pause can be suspicious.

"I have your lunch, Peter," Emma says, her voice shaking. Connor finds it a mild surprise that she's on a first-name basis with him, relations or not, but either way, the door slides open, revealing a hallway leading to Peter's office. Connor looks to his hostage slowly, and she shrinks under his gaze. "Please," She begs, looking at him with watery eyes, "Please, I haven't done anything." She whimpers and shudders from the force of her sobs, begging shamelessly. She struggles to breathe from how fast and hard she's crying, her chest struggling to get enough air in and choking it out in gasps.

”Shh,” Connor quiets her, his voice gentle and comforting. “Everything will be alright. I’m here for him.” Connor promises, letting the woman calm herself. She does, after a long moment, her tears turning into sniffles until she’s calm again. It doesn't surprise Connor that she has no care for Mr. Waters' wellbeing- she's his affair, not his wife. She laughs suddenly, wiping her eyes, relieved she’s going to be spared. She shakes from the weight of death lifting off her shoulders, her whole body nearly going slack in her relief. Connor pulls the trigger, embedding a bullet into her skull and letting her go in time for her to crash to the floor. The gun barely made a noise, but the effect is clear, red splattered across the wall and wetting the floor. Connor, unfortunate as it is, can't afford witnesses, and he doesn’t like to shoot crying people. Connor steps over her corpse with more apathy than he's felt in a long while. He straightens his tie, making his way down the expanse of the hall and opening the sliding door to Peter's office quietly. 

His target doesn't look up when Connor enters, assuming him to be Emma, and Connor takes it as the opportunity to step closer to the desk and level his gun at the man's head. Peter looks up at the silence and lack of food, his face visibly draining of color as he becomes eye-level with the gun. Connor remains blank-faced, staring him down and speaking quietly. 

"Don't scream," He says, calm and even. "If you scream, I can't guarantee the safety of Emma." Peter's eyes spark with panic, but he remains quiet under the threat. He leans forward, beginning to look desperate as the reality settles in.

"What do you want? Is it money? I-I can do that, I can-" He tries, and it's unfortunate Connor can't be bought. Taking some small mercy, he sits down on the other side of the desk, keeping his gun on Peter the whole way. 

"I'm sorry Peter. It's not that. I've been ordered to kill you because you're a hindrance to my people. You're a potential threat, and unfortunately, we can't take the risk." Connor explains quietly, feeling detached from the whole situation. Peter shakes his head, his hands shaking as he tries to collect himself. 

"What do you mean- your _people_? You..." Finally, it begins to set in, and the man's eyes widen in horror. "You're a vampire." He breathes, and Connor finds himself grinning even though he takes no joy in this.

"I am." He confirms, and Peter cradles his head in his palms, and after a long moment of silence begins crying quietly. Connor leans forward and slides a box of tissues across the desk to the man, receiving a quiet thanks as Peter sobs, blowing his nose and being too ashamed to look up for a few moments. “Why do you have a vampire secretary in your lobby?” Connor asks, crossing his legs. Peter whips his head up, his eyes red and puffy, desperate. It’s quite a familiar expression to Connor. 

“Is that what this is about? She’s- I don’t have any vampire employees.” Peter denies quickly, but Connor’s eyes narrow thinly, cold and unconvinced.

”I can smell blood, Peter. I know when someone is human. I have a gun pointed at your head- and you think it’s wise to lie to me?” Connor asks, shaking his head in disbelief. Peter’s eyes widen, and he quickly sits up straight.

”Look no, it’s not like that-“ he begins, but Connor gets there first, slowly pressing in hopes of a confession.

”You think I’m stupid? What are you doing, Peter? Kidnapping them and filing their fangs? Making them seem like paid humans when really you’re profiting of slavery? Do tell me, I’d love to know-“ 

“No! I’m not- they- look, they don’t _care_ , y’know? I was given the idea by one of my friends, someone who has an almost entirety of vampires for their workforce. It just... seemed easier. We don’t kidnap them!” Peter denies, desperate for an excuse to his own actions.

”But they’re sold to you. From who?” Connor insists, but Peter's face pales, and he leans back quickly, shaking his head as he firmly screws his mouth shut. Connor leans forward, staring at Peter and unwavering in his stare. "Come now, Peter- Emma's life is on the line and yet you are, jeopardizing it over one little name? That's all I need, Mr. Waters. Just give me a name." Connor whispers in the quiet of the room, watching closely as Peter's eyes flicker just slightly towards the side door, thinking of Emma. Connor can see the man crack.

"They call it the Eden Club," He murmurs, perhaps ashamed of snitching so easily. "It's a bar, but it's also an underground business that sells vampires as slaves- sometimes by the dozen, some are sold one by one for personal uses. That's all I know, I swear. Please let me go," Peter begs, and hot vivid rage roars through Connor's veins. He can hear a voice, like a ghost whispering in Connor's ear-  _He was going to hurt us! Use us! Sell us like merchandise on the black market!_

"You cause pain, and you expect me to give you anything but pain?" Connor asks, the words like liquid fire on his tongue. Peter blinks, his eyes wet and wide.

"I didn't-  _cause_ pain, I just- I just..." He denies quickly, shaking his head as if he might actually change Connor's mind. 

"There's no excuses, Peter. Not to me. You bought her, and by the time I leave you'll be dead either way, innocent or not." Connor hisses, and the reality seems to shake Peter away from his desperate begging, staring at his desk in shock of the reality of the situation. "Are you ready?" Connor asks, and Peter seems to visibly deflate.

"I'm not hurting anyone, I'm not a threat, I'm- I promise I won't-" He begs, but Connor remains unmoved, shaking his head gently.

"It doesn't work that way, Peter. You're a businessman, you understand." Peter doesn't reply, hanging his head again and breathing heavy. In Peter's silence, Connor continues, inhaling deeply and standing up. "Are you ready, Peter?" He asks, patient but firm. Peter looks at Connor, begging silently.

"You won't kill Emma?" He asks, barely a whisper. Connor neglects to mention that Peter already has a pregnant wife at home and nods instead, looking empathetic. 

"Of course not." He promises, despite the corpse just down the hall. Peter takes a deep breath, wiping his eyes with a piece of tissue and sitting up straighter, looking almost confident. "I'm ready." He whispers, even though he's clearly not, his hands shaking noticeably upon the desk, coiled tightly into fists. It doesn't matter to Connor and he raises the gun in one swift movement and fires a quick bullet into the man's skull without a breath of hesitation. Peter crumbles over his desk instantly, his blood painting it a bright red and his head thumping against the wood. 

There's a short silence as Connor stares, before tucking his gun back into the waistband of his pants. He reaches down, and pulls out a box of matches from his pocket, sliding it open and lighting one in a swift jerk of his wrist. Connor leans over with the match in one hand, digging his free fingers into the back of Peter's partially blown open skull and retrieving his bullet, wiping the blood on the shoulder of Peter's suit. Tucking the piece of metal into his pocket, Connor brings the match forward, touching it to the corpse's hair, and stepping back. After a moment of slowly watching Mr. Waters' corpse begin to alight, Connor steps around the desk and lights up the curtains as well. He drops the flickering match down to the floor, where it begins to just barely singe the carpet. 

Walking back through the hall to Emma's corpse, Connor can just barely feel the heat behind him begin to grow. He can see a pair of unmoving feet laying on the ground, spread from the impact of death. Connor stands over Emma for a moment, her eyes wide open and cheeks still wet, before he kneels, digging his fingers into the side of her head and retrieving her bullet too simply by sheer force. The stench of blood is nauseating, thick and almost too strong for Connor to bear. But it's dead blood, and the growing smell of fire masks it well enough for Connor to disregard any thoughts of hunger. He wipes the bullet and tucks it into his pocket before lighting another match and setting Emma aflame too. 

It's far from the perfect murder- messy, if anything, but it'll do. His target is dead, and Connor has a name, and that's what matters. He slowly rises from where he'd been kneeling, watching silently as the fire begins to spread from Emma's hair to the carpet, the stench of burning flesh beginning to sizzle. Connor stares at the corpse for a moment- just one, before he steps over Emma's body and emerges back into the hall. As he steps out Connor can see smoke rising from under Peter's door, and the guards beginning to turn to open it only to be greeted by a wall of fire. The panic is instant, one of the guards running to pull the fire alarm, but the spread has already begun. Connor approaches the elevator, waiting patiently for it to open and stepping inside as the alarm begins to ring. 

Connor is unbothered, and when the elevator opens with a pleasant ding Connor is greeted by the sight of running humans. It's quite a dramatic escape, considering the fire isn't even on their level, but they trample over one another all the same. It's easy for Connor to ignore the chaos, walking down the hall and back into the lobby. He almost passes the reception desk without a thought, until he remembers the vampire behind it.

low and behold, she's standing there, completely unbothered by the chaos around her. She doesn't move even as humans run out of the door in droves. She just stares, silent and apathetic. She reminds Connor of himself, more than he'd like to admit even, despite them having nothing in common. He approaches the desk and extends a hand to her. 

"Come with me," He says, and she doesn't question him. She takes his hand and walks around the counter silently, and Connor leads her away through the screaming and the fire alarm, through the sprinklers that have yet to kick on. Maybe, if Connor was more egotistical, or maybe better with words, perhaps then he'd believe he was leading her to freedom. 

But he's not. All he is is the messenger, telling her where to hide.

And below that, Connor is a killer.

* * *

"Hello Connor," Amanda smiles, warm and gentle as she sits in the regal thin little boat built just for this garden. "I thought you might enjoy a little cruise." Connor is careful as he enters the boat, but it barely acknowledges the new weight and allows Connor to sit with barely a bob. Amanda is dressed in darker colors today- a mix of black and red that's a little too ominous for Connor's tastes, though he doesn't voice it. She has an orange umbrella over her shoulder, for show rather than practicality. It reminds him of fire- or maybe he's simply still thinking about his assassination. He reaches out, pushing the boat away from the shore and takes the oars in hand, rowing them slowly as Amanda inhales deeply. She looks over her garden with a gentle look in her eyes, and Connor simply waits for her to speak. 

"I love this place." She begins, smiling like she truly means it. Connor finds it awful hypocritical of her. "Everything is so calm and peaceful. Far from the noise of the world..." Connor stops rowing for a moment to look around as well, but Amanda turns her head to gaze at Connor, cutting him short as though he'd done something wrong by admiring  _her_ garden. "Tell me... What have you discovered?" 

"My relationship with Lieutenant Hank Anderson is problematic," Connor sighs in a rare demonstration of honesty- or maybe a topic to avoid admitting his lack of progress in her desired mission. As expected, Amanda is uninterested and turns her head to the water.

"He's unimportant," She chides like it's a known fact. But Connor doesn't doubt that to her, it is. Life means nothing to Amanda- all she cares for is control. "Don't let anyone get in the way of your mission, Connor. That includes the Lieutenant. Do anything it takes to accomplish it. I'd hate to have to replace you." Amanda says, staring Connor down- an unsaid threat hanging in the air. Connor only nods, false confidence oozing from his every pore despite the alarm shooting up his spine.  _Replace him, Amanda has thought about replacing him- replacing him with who?_ Connor hates that he's afraid.

"Understood, Amanda." He says flatly, despite his unease. How willing she is to kill. She never thinks twice- never pauses, never doubts. Cold, empty.  _Manipulative._

He eyes the woman, debating only a moment before he opens his mouth to ask the question truly on his mind. 

"What is our course of action?" Connor asks, slow and unsure, not quite sure what lines he should and shouldn't cross. Amanda snaps her eyes back to him, though this time they're cold and somewhat angry behind her mask.

"The same as it has always been, Connor. Locate the terrorist organization and dispose of them. Once that's done, we can begin to focus on the true future of our kind.  _Industrialization. Progress._ " Amanda slides her eyes to Connor, but suddenly they have a twinkle in them- something dark and dangerous. "Capture any deviants you can, don't kill them. I want the executions public." She orders and Connor can barely contain his horror, imagining for a moment himself in that position. Forced to kneel on a podium above a sea of vampires, all watching with empty eyes, careless to his screams, Amanda sitting above it all, enjoying the show of death. Amanda hadn't said it- but Connor knows it will be Conan wielding the sword. Will Connor get a sword? Or will he be subjected to ax like an animal? Conan will enjoy it either way. He and Amanda share that in common, their unrelenting love for blood- like they feed off the pain, never full. 

Connor barely notices his hands shaking as he picks up the oars to row again, anything to not meet Amanda's eyes. 

"Understood, Amanda." He repeats, but this time it sounds unnaturally empty even to his own ears. Amanda doesn't seem to care, simply watching the wind blow through the trees of her garden. Connor might have even been lured into relaxation here if he was a fool. 

"Good," Amanda says, smiling at Connor like she really cares for him. Connor knows she doesn't, and that hurts all the worse, but for now, alone here together, Connor allows himself to pretend. "I knew I could rely on you," She says, and Connor's heart aches for reasons he can't explain. He doesn't reply, and she doesn't make him, as they float along the water slowly. 

Connor hadn't thought about it until now, but here in the Zen Garden under Amanda's false warmth he remembers suddenly.

The secretary's name was Emma.

Connor tells himself it doesn't matter. She was an obstacle, one who would have remembered his face. Connor can't take risks, not anymore. All that matters now is his mission, and he intends to succeed. No matter if the cost is betraying Amanda, and losing the one thing Connor has relied on his whole life- her trust, her approval. _I might have to replace you._ He's worthless to her anyway. There will be many more obstacles, and Connor will not stumble over them. He doesn't care if it hurts, he was built to endure. He was born for pain.

Blood is a small price to pay, regardless of how it feels on Connor's hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Again I'm sorry for the long wait, but I think updates will be a bit slower from now on. Not that I'm losing any enthusiasm!!! Just a loss of time. But I'm sure the suspense will definitely keep you all theorizing which I love to see.. ;) Updates will continue, don't worry. Just... More spread out ones. 
> 
> Amanda, still terrible as ever. Did you miss her? I bet you didn’t! And don’t worry, she’s only going to get WORSE. Connor the super spy! It's a miracle! He's not failing! We really need to put more faith in him.  
> This chapter was dark, BUT I WARNED YOU!! And we have a whole list of these names. I wonder what would happen if Markus found out... not saying he will, just... theorizing. ;)  
> I still don't quite know when exactly RK900 is going to show up, but I guarantee you it's soon. HE'S ON THE WAY BOIS. Who knows what that means for Connor? Actually, a lot of stuff happened in this chapter. I mean, we got a lot of insight and openings into future plot points... I hope you all are as hyped for this as me. 
> 
> As always I LOVE YOUR COMMENTS AND KUDOS AND SUPPORT! they truly mean the world to me and inspire me to write, so thank you for all of them!

**Author's Note:**

> In case you missed it (somehow): Vampire AU. also please don't attack me simply for something you don't like in my work- just don't read it then- and if you do like it, thanks! I appreciate feedback and you enjoying my work makes me enjoy writing it! :)  
> Updates might be a bit slow... but I'm hyped for this so we'll see. No set update schedule. thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


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